Reciprocal Revenge
by irite
Summary: Follows "Trip to the Barbershop." Relations between Tony and Bruce are tense after the haircut incident. Until Tony decides to get even, that is. And Bruce just can't let that go unanswered, now can he? What happens when the rest of the team gets involved?
1. Compound

**This follows "Trip to the Barbershop." If you haven't read that, I suggest you do so. Things will make ever so much more sense.**

**dysprositos, thank you for fixing my mistakes and adding all the science stuff. Brilliant. And for making the incredible cover pic.**

**WARNINGS: Nudity and language.**

* * *

Tony Stark had been wronged, damn it. Somehow, a hair person (stylist, what-the-fuck-ever) managed to remove most of Tony's precious hair. Tony loved his hair.

When he got back to the Tower, mostly bald and mightily pissed, Tony had expected some measure of understanding from his so-called friends.

Instead, Thor had been the only one concerned with his misfortune. Tony sulked, but accepted (grudgingly) that his problem may not be everyone else's issue.

But then, Bruce had to go and make it every-damn-body's problem.

The first thing Tony had to do was determine _how _Bruce had obtained photographs of him with his wrecked hair. Luckily, Tony had suspicion and JARVIS on his side.

Pepper was quickly identified as the culprit. Tony found that really couldn't blame her, he _had_ been being a bit of a neglectful prick lately. He resolved to get back into her good graces.

JARVIS had also told him that Bruce owed Pepper a large favor. Tony planned to make sure that favor was as embarrassing as possible.

* * *

"No matter what I do or say, force me out of the lab at 5:30. I have to make Pep like me again. We're going to dinner at that swanky steak place she likes, and I'm personally taking her to motherfucking Tiffany's. If that shit doesn't work, I don't know what will."

JARVIS answered, "Yes sir. Would you like to place any restrictions on my available methods for extracting you?"

"I know I will regret this, but no. Get me out, I don't care how."

Hours later, when a puzzled Bruce walked into the lab, Tony knew that somebody up there hated him. Tony was still majorly pissed at Bruce, had, in fact, been avoiding him. However, JARVIS's tactic worked, and Tony was out of the lab faster than one of Clint's arrows.

* * *

Pepper liked dinner. She liked her new earrings even better. Normally, she wouldn't allow herself to be bought, but Tony seemed so sincere. She may have also felt a teensy bit guilty after collaborating with Bruce to embarrass Tony.

He'd deserved it, he really had. And if a side-effect of his humiliation was that he'd remember her existence, well, Pepper wasn't complaining.

She forgave Tony. At least until the next time he fouled up. Knowing Tony, it would be soon. The earrings had a matching bracelet, and if Pepper didn't own it, too, by the end of the month, then she was Loki.

* * *

Tony had come up with a plan. A damn good one, if he did say so himself. First, he started acting normally around Bruce. Well, as normal as Tony Stark ever gets. He had to lull the physicist into a false sense of security.

Then, he told Pepper that Bruce needed new clothing desperately, but refused to go shopping with any of the Avengers except Thor, and everyone knew how _that_ would turn out. He played on Pepper's heartstrings until she agreed to take him out.

Tony's gleeful giggle had unnerved lesser people than Pepper Potts.

Accordingly, Pepper called in her favor from Bruce, and as mortifying as he found the idea of shopping with her, he agreed, somehow unable to say no. They made plans to go out the next day.

* * *

Nobody was surprised when Tony holed himself up in his lab that evening.

He'd blathered on about some new upgrade for his suit until even Steve's patience was tried.

Natasha said it best, though. "Get the fuck out of here and just go build it already, Stark."

Nobody followed him when he left, but Tony still told JARVIS to lock the door.

Tony's real purpose for being in the lab was his plan. He was going to create a substance that would dye Bruce's skin green. A goddamn long-lasting formula, too.

* * *

Working all night was nothing unusual for Tony. He finally finished his concoction around eight in the morning. In his hand, he held a canister of a clear, colorless, odorless powder that would, with only a few short seconds of contact, dye Bruce's skin bright Hulk green. Additionally, the dye could travel through diffusion to adjacent skin cells, ensuring that even areas that didn't come into physical contact with the powder would still be colored.

Tony had run multiple tests on a skin sample he'd pulled from Bruce's classified medical records. What SHIELD didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

All the tests had produced the desired result and Tony was giddy. That may have just been the sleep deprivation talking, though.

"Wake me up when Bruce and Pep get back. I want to congratulate them on their...shopping."

"No, sir, you don't. Do you have a preferred method for awakening?"

"Just sound a really loud alarm. I learned my lesson last time you said that. I don't even want to know how you got motherfucking freezing water into my room to dump on me."

* * *

Bruce found that he actually liked shopping with Pepper. She was easy to get along with, and he didn't feel like he was having to dumb himself down too much either.

They bought him a whole new wardrobe with Tony's money. It was almost lunchtime and Bruce was reluctant to go back to the Tower.

He offered to buy Pepper lunch. She accepted, picking a hole-in-the-wall Chinese place.

They finally got back to the Tower at two o'clock. When the elevator reached the Avengers' floor, Tony was waiting to greet them. He had obviously just rolled out of bed.

"Bruce, can you go to Lab 6 and take a look at the coding? I tried to fix it, but I just can't get the goddamn calculations right."

"Sure thing, Tony. Just let me put these in my room."

Tony said, "All right. Somebody will come get those and take them to the laundry." He swept Pepper away in a discussion of Stark Industries's newest project.

Bruce headed to the lab and Pepper went to her office. She knew something was up with Tony, but only time would tell what.

* * *

Tony double-checked the security footage of Bruce and Pepper before dashing to Bruce's room, canister of powder in hand.

He snatched up all of the bags, taking them to the laundry room. He added his special powder to the washing machine and tossed in Bruce's new clothes. The machine was a Stark invention, super fast, and in a few minutes it had completed its cycle. Tony removed the clothes, and, as an afterthought, added some extra powder to Bruce's new boxers. He had to prove a point.

A robot folded all of the clothes neatly and carried them back to Bruce's closet. Now all Tony had to do was wait.

* * *

Bruce's scream was nowhere near as feminine as Tony's had been.

Tony dove for the nearest screen, pulling up the live footage of Bruce, who was standing dumbstruck in the hallway.

Rewinding the tape, Tony saw that Bruce had reached up to adjust his glasses when he noticed his hand was green. Bruce's shocked scan of his body was repeated several times before he froze.

Tony knew that the list of possible culprits was short—actually, contained only him—and began making contingency plans (why hadn't he done that before?).

On screen, Bruce unfroze and strode purposefully to his room.

He washed his hands. On seeing that the color was not altered in the slightest, Bruce flipped off the camera mounted on the ceiling and power-walked to the elevator, riding it down to the basement.

He entered the Hulk containment chamber and started growing at a rapid rate. His color didn't change at all; Tony had managed to dye Bruce the exact same shade as the Hulk. (Tony did a mental fistpump.)

The Hulk yelled. He was almost hoarse by the time he finished.

He started shrinking, but his color did not change.

Bruce sighed when he came to and saw his arms were still green. When he glanced down, through his shredded pants, a dark blush rose to his face, combining with the green of his skin into a truly alarming shade.

Tony was cackling maniacally. He really had managed to hit Bruce's dick with the worst of the stuff. It was a deep green.

He adjusted the angle and took a picture. He pulled up a blank message and addressed it to all of the Tower's screens. He was attaching the picture when Bruce, still blushing, made for the door. When Tony saw him get in the elevator, he quickly hit send and ran for his suits as fast as he could.

Every screen in Stark Tower lit up with a picture of green Bruce. His dick wasn't showing, but his ass was.

Unfortunately for Tony, the elevator was equipped with two screens. When Bruce saw the images, his face darkened even more.


	2. Programming

**MANY THANKS to dysprositos, MY BETA! It's all shiny and technical now!**

**WARNINGS: violence and language.**

* * *

Bruce used his override code to force the elevator to its emergency speed as soon as its screens lit up.

The elevator was at Tony's floor before he had a chance to don the whole suit. He was yelling at JARVIS, imploring him to hurry-the-fuck-up, _please_!

As the elevator doors slid open, Tony let out a cinema-worthy girl-scream.

Bruce stalked over to Tony, casually typing the override code into the suit assembler. Tony froze. Bruce didn't look any more muscled, but without being able to use his skin tone as an indicator Tony wasn't sure. For the first time, he began to second-guess himself.

"Tony, Tony, Tony," Bruce said, "You've been a naughty boy. Take your suit off and fight like a man."

All that came out of Tony's mouth was a faint squeak.

Bruce smiled. He directed the robots to take the suit off Tony. If they were a little rough with Tony, well, it wasn't _his_ fault.

When Tony wore nothing but his t-shirt and jeans, Bruce yanked him into the middle of the room.

Tony didn't even see the first punch coming, but he sure felt it.

"You're cheating! That was _totally _Hulk-strength!"

"What're you gonna do about it, huh?"

Tony threw a punch and kicked out, low to the ground, simultaneously. Bruce dodged the punch, right into Tony's leg. He fell heavily.

Tony chortled. And then went down hard, tripped up by Bruce's leg.

Bruce launched himself on top of Tony, landing hard on his abdomen.

"Oof!"

Bruce not-so-accidentally kneed Tony in the groin and hit him in the nose, just hard enough to fracture it, giving Tony two matching black eyes.

Bruce stood up, dusting himself off casually.

_Add a couple guns strapped to his thighs_, Tony thought, dazed, _and he could be a Western gunslinger_.

Bruce gave Tony a finger wave over his shoulder as he left the room, commanding JARVIS to send him the footage in his lab.

Tony stood up shakily and vowed to start attending those training sessions Steve was always nattering at him about. If he could get his ass kicked that fast by mother_fuck_ing Bruce Banner, then Tony needed serious help.

He stumbled to the computer and watched Bruce ransack his lab until he found Tony's notes on the skin-dyeing compound.

* * *

It was Bruce's turn to hole up in his lab, working feverishly.

With Tony's notes to help him, he had mixed up a suitable antidote by dinnertime. The little hairs on Bruce's arms and legs would be green for weeks, though, prompting Bruce to wear long sleeves and pants constantly.

When Bruce, skin its normal olive tone, but still stained by an angry flush, sat at the dinner table that night, the massive bruising on Tony's face was enough to deter the other Avengers from asking questions.

Not Tony, however. "Day-um, you fixed yourself fast. I was guessing it'd take you all night, at least."

"Shut up, Tony. If you think this is over, you got another thing coming."

Tony, for the second time, reconsidered doing this. Bruce was a good strategizer, and if that didn't make him a good schemer, too, then Tony would eat his face-plate.

Natasha, the bravest of the dinner companions, spoke up, "Tony, what the fuck happened to your FACE?"

Tony mutely pointed.

Steve did a double take, and Clint choked on his burger. Natasha had to pound him on the back, covering any reaction she may have had.

Thor boomed, "BRUCE? You did THAT to Tony's face? Without breaking him? Congratulations, my friend. Controlling your strength in your other form is a GREAT accomplishment!"

Tony piped in, "No, Thor, Bruce did this himself. With his own fists. I KNOW he used Hulk-strength, though."

"Yeah, where's your evidence of that? I was green all over, so you can't claim that as an indicator."

"I know." Tony stood, suddenly not hungry any longer. The malicious glint in Bruce's eye was becoming brighter and reminding him of how the leader of the rebels in Afghanistan had looked, just before he got a ducking.

Bruce saw the terror Tony was trying so desperately to hide and softened slightly. When he was sure Tony was out of earshot, he told Steve to go after Tony and make sure he was okay.

Natasha looked quizzical, and Bruce answered her unasked question. "I'm not really still mad. I got all that out of my system when I hit him the last time. I want him to be scared, though, because this prank will _not_ go unanswered."

Bruce cleaned his plate and walked to his lab, grabbing his laptop. He headed out, to the closest Starbucks so he could escape JARVIS's surveillance.

* * *

At Starbucks, Bruce sat with his back to the wall so nobody could read over his shoulder. He set up a firewall to make sure no one could access his computer remotely.

Then he pulled up a blank document and started typing. He was creating a program that would really get back at Tony. But it needed to have good security. That was the hard part. JARVIS could hack almost any computer system with a minimum of effort.

However, Bruce had the data from when JARVIS hacked SHIELD and he knew how to tighten the loopholes and improve it. With any luck, this would pose a real challenge for JARVIS, especially if Bruce disabled Tony's administrative login.

Bruce paused to refill his decaf tea and rubbed his hands together before checking his security protocols and resuming his work.

When he had a viable security system formulated, Bruce saved it to a flash drive.

He just had to get Tony out of the way so that he could get onto JARVIS's main console unobserved.

* * *

Bruce left several menus where Thor could find them and waited.

Soon, he heard it. "MY FRIENDS! GATHER!"

No matter who told him or how many times it was said, Thor could _not_ remember to use JARVIS's communication system. He just yelled, really loudly.

Bruce strolled to the living room and sat in an armchair, tucking one foot under himself, the picture of innocence.

Steve was the next to walk in, looking only mildly alarmed. This was a regular occurrence with Thor, after all.

Natasha and Clint strode in, each with a hand on a concealed weapon, just in case. They could never be too careful.

Tony appeared on the wall, too lazy to actually come in person unless it was a real emergency. (Those only happened about three times a week when Thor was involved. Usually in the kitchen.)

Thor ran in, excitedly brandishing the menus.

"We MUST dine at one of these establishments tonight! I cannot decide what I wish to sample first, this curry or eggrolls. No, perhaps this pee-zah!"

"Thor, calm down. We can go wherever you like. If you can't decide, we'll help you. It was my night to do the dishes anyway," Natasha stated.

Clint protested, "HEY!"

"You heard the lady. Where will it be, big guy?" Tony, looking for all the world like he was asleep, piped in.

Bruce moaned, one hand going to his head. If Natasha and Clint's hands flew to their weapons any faster, they would've broken the sound barrier.

"Ugh, sorry, Thor, but I've got a migraine. I think I'll have to sit this one out. Steve, can you give me a hand; the room's kind of spinning..."

Steve sprang to his feet and assisted the doctor to the door, where Bruce paused and shot a wan smile over his shoulder at Thor.

Seeing the devastation on Bruce's face, Thor promised to bring him a "What do YOU Midgardians call it? Ah, a doggie bag!"

"Thanks, buddy. Looking forward... ohhhh."

Bruce swayed alarmingly and Steve picked him up bodily, carrying him from the room.

Clint and Tony locked eyes, snickering.

* * *

Finally, the others left. Bruce slid out of bed, careful to maintain the charade until he reached his computer, discreetly pressing a button. JARVIS's security footage was placed on a loop effective in fifteen seconds. Bruce stumbled to the bathroom and posed over the toilet, pretending to retch.

Bruce counted twenty-five seconds, just to be safe.

Then he got up, all but running over to his desk. Grabbing the concealed flash drive, he made for the door, hurrying to the control room.

"Let's do this," Bruce declared. He plugged the flash drive into Tony's computer, loading the program and over-riding JARVIS.

"Dr. Banner, I do not think this wiiiiiiii..."

Bruce watched the download bar. It moved too sluggishly for his tastes.

When it was finally done, Bruce smiled. He removed the flash drive and placed it in his pocket.

Starting to return to his room, Bruce thought better of the idea and headed to his lab, dropping the memory stick into the hazardous waste disposal bin.

Bruce entered his room, carefully restoring his desk to the way it had looked earlier. He set the loop to end in another fifteen seconds.

When he was sure the loop had stopped, Bruce wiped his mouth and flushed the toilet, leaning heavily on the bathtub. He dragged himself over to the sink and swished out the (pretend) taste with mouthwash.

Staggering back to bed, Bruce only intended to pretend to sleep. However, he was tired and found his eyes closing.

* * *

"He looks better," Natasha commented.

Bruce's room was full of Avengers, but he slept blissfully.

Thor held a bag and styrofoam cup. Somehow managing to be quiet, he asked, "Should I wake him?"

The whispered "No!" was simultaneous, though for different reasons.

Steve grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, scribbling something.

"Thor, I'm telling him that his dinner is in the fridge if he wakes up hungry."

"Thank you. I do not wish to disappoint him."

The Avengers trooped out of Bruce's room, Thor heading to the kitchen and the others going to their rooms for the night. Surprisingly, even Tony was exhausted.

* * *

The next morning Bruce was asleep when the others congregated in the kitchen for breakfast, albeit reluctantly (it was Clint's turn to cook).

His dinner was gone, though. Thor smiled to see its absence.

Tony, feeling slightly human after three cups of coffee, declared his intentions of going down to the lab. He instructed Steve to fetch him for a training session later, saying "I can't have Banner kick my ass again!" Really, though, the look in Bruce's eye at dinner the other day had him worried. He needed to watch his damn back.

As he entered his lab, he gave his usual set of instructions to JARVIS, "Lights, AC, music!"

JARVIS responded.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

Bruce grinned. Now that was a wakeup call he could get used to.


	3. Revelations

**Thanks to dysprositos for letting me use that idea. And telling me that the words the thesaurus gives me aren't always the best choice.**

**WARNING: language.**

* * *

So that was how Banner wanted to play it. Fucking with Tony's music. Well, he'd rather that than waking up in the middle of the night with the Hulk hovering over him, fist prepared to smash. Tony had been scared earlier that this animosity would get violent, but he could handle a prank war.

Ohhh, could he handle it.

First things first, though. "JARVIS, what the FUCK is this?"

"Sir, I believe this person is called 'Hannah Montana' and this is the theme for her self-titled TV show."

"Well, eradicate it from the system. Don't you know anything? Give me a copy of my music library."

A hologram of Tony's music collection appeared over his work table. Just to taunt him, Banner had left his music there, but each song had a small lock icon next to it. The new shit (there were hundreds of them!) had no such restriction.

For clarity's sake, he told JARVIS to play Black Sabbath's "Iron Man."

"Mr. Stark, this file seems to be restricted. If you would give me the authorization code, I will try to override this."

"I am Tony Fucking Stark. I don't need a motherfucking password."

"Thank you, sir. Initializing the override now."

An alarm went off. A cool female voice said, "Mr. Stark, you do not have the authority to undertake this action. If you do not desist, you will be reported as an intruder."

"REPORTED? THIS IS MY FUCKING TOWER, MY FUCKING LAB, AND MY FUCKING MUSIC!"

"You no longer possess administrative status, sir. You have been designated as a 'guest', and your privileges are now the same as everybody else in the Tower," that voice told him. Was it just his imagination, or did it sound like Pepper?

Banner took away his admin codes? Damn, but SHIELD's files were lacking. Nothing on Banner said anything about advanced computer skills. Evidently, they were wrong.

Tony took a minute to contemplate the look on Fury's face when he heard that his intel had weak spots. He would need to take a picture of that expression, for sure.

His next order of business was to photograph both of his middle fingers and send it to Banner. The petty act made him feel slightly better.

Sighing, he got back to work. The additions included more of this Hannah Montana person, some Justin Beaver? no, it was Bieber, and a whole host of other kiddie shit.

He separated all of the new crap into a separate list. When he had his status restored, he could delete it. It wouldn't go away without a password.

To do anything, though, he'd need his administrative status restored. Accessing Banner's files would be the quickest way to do this, but Tony doubted Banner was moronic enough to leave that shit lying around.

The hard way it was, then.

"JARVIS, log me into the system. Can I access your base programming?"

"Done. No sir, you cannot. You don't have that clearance. However, both Ms. Potts and Agent Romanoff do."

Great, just what Tony wanted to do. Explain to either Pep or Romanoff that Banner had beaten him at his own game and locked him out of the system.

Pep would not want to help him, she'd say that he needed to figure it out on his own, after he put in a gazillion hours of overtime at Stark Industries. That put her at second choice.

Romanoff would probably laugh her ass off, but if Tony put the right spin on things like saying how dangerous it was for him to not be able to access the system, he could probably sway her.

Romanoff it is, then.

"JARVIS, where is Romanoff?"

"She is in the shooting range in Basement 3, sir."

"Thanks."

* * *

Just when he thought his day couldn't get any worse, Tony walked into the range to see that Romanoff wasn't alone. Barton was with her, perched on the half-wall while she took her shots.

Tony would just have to tell both of them.

"Yo, Romanoff! Got a sec?"

"Let me finish this clip and I will."

"Sure thing." Damn, but it was LOUD in there. Sounded like Thor the time Tony sacrificed the contents of a whole liquor cabinet to get him drunk. Good times.

Abruptly, it was quiet.

"You want to stay in here or go somewhere else, Stark?"

"Can we go to the lab? This is a show-and-tell kind of thing."

Romanoff made for the door, Barton trailing her like a puppy. The two had been practically Velcro'd together since the Chitauri attack.

When they got back to the lab, Tony said in a rush, "Bannerhackedthesystem andblockedmyaccess. Healsocorruptedmy musiccollection."

"I'm sorry, WHAT?"

"Jesus, slow down, man," Barton chimed in. "Not like we're going anywhere."

"Banner. Hacked. _My_. System. And. Blocked. My. Access."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"JARVIS says you have the codes for his base programming. I need them so I can restore my own."

Barton's timing sucked. Romanoff was about to agree, Tony just knew it, when Barton chimed in, "Hey, didn't you say something else too? About music?"

Shit. Why was he even here again?

"Christ, Barton. Do you have to be so fucking _perceptive_ all the damn time?"

"Yes, Stark. Part of the job description. Now spill. What did Banner do to your music?"

"Here, look for yourself."

Barton and Romanoff turned to face the hologram. Romanoff's left eyebrow lifted a miniscule fraction, but Barton did not possess her reserve and burst out laughing.

"This is great! I can't believe all you have to listen to is teenybopper shit!"

"Thanks for the sympathy, Barton. I feel so much better now."

"How exactly did Banner do this? I don't remember any record of his computer skills being any more than ordinary..." Natasha, clearly concerned, commented.

"_Obviously_, SHIELD doesn't know everything."

"We know what you keep hidden under your pillow, Stark," Barton told him.

"Whoooa. You are so not going there. Now will you give me the damn codes or do I have to go grovel to Pep?"

Romanoff grabbed a piece of paper and a pen to scribble something down. "Try these. If they don't work, I know the backup."

"Thank you."

"Come on, Nat! Let's go congratulate Bruce!"

The two agents left the lab, Barton practically skipping with glee. If Tony could contribute to his high spirits, he supposed the headache he was facing was worth it. Barton had been low since the 'Loki incident.'

He was glad that that Romanoff didn't require much convincing. The headache he could feel coming on was tying his logical reasoning up in knots. Normally, he would just blare his music until he couldn't hear himself think. That wasn't an option, so he just started working, hoping it would go away.

* * *

After Tony screamed, Bruce's mind refused to shut off so that he could go back to sleep. It was too busy triple- and quadruple-checking to make sure he'd left no trace behind that would make cracking his code easier for Stark. Stark would surely think of that since Bruce had no qualms about using Tony's own notes to correct his skin's pigmentation after Stark fucked with it.

Once Bruce felt satisfied that he had left nothing incriminating lying around, he headed to the kitchen on the common floor. It was two in the afternoon, so he didn't expect to see anyone else there.

The kitchen was deserted, so Bruce set about making himself some lunch. He had eaten his leftovers at about five in the morning when he stumbled out of bed long enough to eat, practically sleepwalking through the motions.

He had just decided on a sandwich and sliced the bread when Steve came into the room. Bruce had noticed Steve had developed an inability to look him in the face since that picture of his green ass had circulated.

Well, no time like the present to fix that problem, Bruce decided.

"Afternoon, Steve."

"Hello, Bruce. How are you doing?" Steve managed to keep his eyes focused on Bruce's chin.

Obviously, subtlety would get Bruce nowhere, and he was _hungry_. So, he walked over, getting in Steve's personal space.

Steve took a step back and appraised Bruce's face carefully, unsuccessfully trying to avoid Bruce's eyes. When he was satisfied that Bruce wasn't about to change into the Hulk, he queried, "What on earth was that?"

"You've been awkward ever since you saw that picture of my butt." Steve looked confused, so Bruce paused his clarification to explain, "You know, when Tony dyed me green?"

Steve nodded, clarity washing across his face.

Bruce continued, "I don't like awkward, and neither does the Other Guy. Makes him antsy." This was definitely stretching the truth a little bit, but Steve didn't need to know that. Bruce didn't want to spend any more time spelling out what his reasons were. He wanted his lunch.

Thankfully, Steve seemed to understand. "Of course. I'm sorry, Bruce. I didn't mean to make you or _anyone else_ uncomfortable."

Bruce's smile clearly eased Steve's mind. "Can you leave the bread and stuff out? I'm starving."

Bruce finished making his sandwich in record time and grabbed a Snapple out of the fridge. No caffeine for him; it was a stimulant.

He had wolfed down half of his sandwich in about a minute when the two agents walked in. Barton looked at Bruce and practically bent double, he was laughing so hard.

Rather than wait for the hysteria to calm, Bruce looked to Natasha for an answer.

"You have mustard on your face, but I think he's more interested in what you did to Stark."

Bruce swiped at his face but apparently didn't get it, because Natasha sighed and grabbed a napkin, wiping his nose.

All the males paused to look at her. She shrugged defensively, "What? It was bothering me, okay?"

Barton had calmed down and he reached over to clap Bruce on the back. "Fucking fantastic, man! Stark's face was just priceless."

"Um, thank you, I guess."

Steve's mothering tendencies could no longer be smothered. "What happened to Stark? Did you hit him AGAIN, Banner?"

"No, he just switched out all of his music for sugary pop!"

"His music is a drink now? I don't understand."

Rather than listen to the boys fumble through an explanation, Natasha took matters into her own hands. "Pop is a type of music now, like swing or jazz. Stark's collection has been replaced with songs that teenage girls would listen to, not grown men."

"Oh. Thank you, Natasha. Nice job, Banner. It's good you got even with him for making you green. I'm glad you're not resorting to violence."

Seemingly popping up from nowhere (how could such a big man do that?), Thor greeted the kitchen at large, "MY FRIENDS! Steven, you promised to spar with me this afternoon. Are you available?"

"Of course, Thor, I always have time to spar with you. What do you want to practice today?"

They walked away, discussing the possibilities of fighting hand-to-hand versus weapons training. Natasha looked interested, well, as interested as she was capable of looking. She motioned to Barton and followed the blondes. Bruce finished his sandwich in peace, deciding to go read Morton Meyers's _Prize Fight_ on the roof. He knew Tony would not take longer than a few days to crack the code, and when he did, Bruce would have a figurative target painted on his back.


	4. Fissures

**A huge thank you to dysprositos for making Pepper bossier and being all-around fabulous.**

**WARNING: language.**

* * *

Tony was _not_ a patient man. He had been working on rewriting JARVIS's code so that he could access his _own_ system for the past two days. He had not left the lab, stopping to eat only whenever Steve brought him food, and sleeping just once when he started experiencing double vision.

He was only about halfway to fixing the fucking problem. To make matters worse, whenever Tony looked at (okay, spied on) Banner via the security system, he was so fucking _nonchalant_. Like he didn't fear Tony's retaliation at _all_.

Tony kept receiving false results. He would believe that he had corrected the problem, only to have some of that godawful music play and that cool voice inform him that he was one step away from being reported as an intruder into "Mr. Stark's system."

No amount of pleading with her that he _was_ Mr. Stark could sway her. He _did_ spend two hours trying, though.

Banner came down to the lab at lunchtime, telling Tony that Steve was out on a mission, but had made Banner promise to keep him fed. Steve had said that it was the least Banner could do, since he was the reason for Tony's frenzied work.

After Tony finished the last sandwich, he picked up the napkin to wipe his face, noticing the note at the last second. _Really, Banner, who writes notes on napkins anymore? How very first grade of you_. When the note was revealed to be a line of code Tony had been puzzling over for the better part of the morning, Tony didn't know whether to thank the man or cuss him out.

He settled for shaking his fist at the ceiling and muttering a few choice words under his breath.

Of course, Barton would choose that moment to stop by. Tony suspected a conspiracy, but he had no proof. Yet.

"What do you have there, Stark? Did Mommy put a note in your lunch?"

"Fuck you, Barton."

"Right back atcha, Stark," Clint returned as he snatched the note away.

_Damn those SHIELD agents and their fucking freaky reflexes_, Tony thought.

Barton noted, "This is Bruce's handwriting. Are you having such a hard time that he had to help you?"

"No," Tony growled. It would have been scarier, but Romanoff's silent appearance behind Barton's shoulder made Tony jump a little. He did _not_ squeak, however.

She looked at the note, Tony, and the camera mounted in the corner.

"Guess he's watching you, Stark. Banner, do you have some sort of Big Brother complex or something?"

Nobody was expecting a reply, so when the screen in the middle of Tony's worktable flashed a 'maybe,' they all jumped a little. Tony knew Barton and Romanoff would never to admit to that, so he filed it away for future blackmail purposes.

He snatched the napkin back, stuffing it in his pocket. Then he proceeded to push the SHIELD agents toward the door. In retrospect, that may not have been the brightest idea, as he soon found himself on the floor, courtesy of Romanoff.

He lifted his middle finger and waited until they were gone to groan.

Elsewhere, Bruce chuckled.

* * *

Two and a half days later, it's dinnertime. The team, save Tony, is assembled around the table, eating Italian, when Metallica starts blaring through the overhead speakers. Tony makes a dramatic entrance, striking a pose in the doorway.

Natasha shouts, "Mute!" and the boys all look at her with relief. Except for Tony, that is. He's starting to pout, and when has that ever fucking worked on her?

Thor is the first to speak, "TONY! YOU HAVE FIXED YOUR PROBLEM!"

"Yeah, big guy, I did. Suck it, Bruce."

"Not so fast, Tony. Haven't you forgotten something, or more accurately, somebody?" Bruce asks.

The look of horror on Tony's face is picture-worthy, so that's exactly what Clint does.

Tony whispers, "Shit, Pepper," and vanishes faster than any of the others can follow.

"What is the matter with TONY? Is something WRONG?"

Steve also looks confused.

Natasha takes pity on the clueless blondes and explains, "Stark has been holed up in that lab for days, neglecting his responsibilities. Ms. Potts was quite upset the last time this happened, and it was not for nearly such a long time."

Steve, forever helpful, wonders if there is anything the team can do to help.

Bruce says he won't get involved unless she gets violent, and the rest of the team is inclined to agree.

They all troop to the living room in unspoken agreement, where Clint tells JARVIS to put the footage of Stark on the TV.

Bruce brings in popcorn, and they settle in for some entertainment.

* * *

The look on Pepper's face does not disappoint her audience as Tony skids around the corner like a child.

She points at the floor threateningly, "I expect some serious groveling. And fast."

"Pep, I'm so sorry! Banner replaced my music with this kiddie stuff and locked me out of the system. I had to work for days just to get back in and I only just now fixed everything. Please, I'll do anything!"

"Your ass is going to be at work, on time, for the next month. You are going to go to your own goddamned press conferences and you are going to _behave_. I want the bracelet that goes with these earrings, and your undivided attention during the day, unless there is an emergency requiring Iron Man. That means paperwork. And conference calls. And no sneaking away to your lab. If you don't do what I say, I'm going to ask Bruce for the codes to lock you out of the system because I'd be willing to bet quite a lot that you didn't take any notes when you were working."

"Yes, Pepper. Of course, Pepper. JARVIS, put all of that on my calendar and send someone down to Tiffany's for that bracelet."

"That's better, Tony. I'm impressed."

"Where would you like to go for dinner, Pepper darling?"

"How about Cesare's? We haven't been there in a while..."

"That sounds lovely. JARVIS, make a reservation for 7:30. I'm going to go shower and get dressed."

* * *

The route to his shower takes him through the living room, where the rest of the team is trying too hard to look innocent. Well, not Steve and Romanoff. Steve just i_s_ innocent, and Romanoff is the master of the poker face. Tony was hoping that they hadn't been watching, but his wishes rarely come true.

"Whipped much, Stark?" Barton snorts.

"You should not speak of the LOVELY Pepper in that manner, Clint!"

"Yeah, don't talk about my assistant like that, Barton. She is one scary, er, ladylike person. Speaking of her, we're going out to dinner, so if you will excuse me..."

Tony leaves the room, freeing Bruce and Clint to give into the laughter they had been holding back.

They howl like hyenas, rolling around on the floor. Steve, Thor, and Natasha just watch, amused by the sounds the two were making. They don't even sound _human_.

* * *

Tony and Pepper's dinner goes well, and Tony spends the next week as Pepper's slave. He has no free time to plot revenge on Banner because he works all day and is too exhausted to do anything but sleep at night. He wonders if this was how Banner had planned it. Pepper certainly is bossier than normal and kind of touchy, come to think about it.

After his week of good behavior, Tony manages to convince Pepper to give him the afternoon off. He _needs_ planning time. Banner has become complacent, knowing that Tony's time is otherwise occupied.

Therefore, Tony needs a _good_ plan.


	5. Breaking Point

**A huge thank you to dysprositos for beta-ing and suggesting that Bruce should shower before opening the closet. Thank you!**

**WARNING: language.**

* * *

It had been almost two weeks since Bruce had locked off Tony's music and given him the contents of a teenage girl's iPod for his listening pleasure. Bruce knew Pepper was keeping Tony busy, but he was still wary of Tony.

When he heard that Tony had the afternoon off, Bruce decided it was time for a field trip.

He offered to accompany Steve to the Metropolitan Museum. Steve was practically giddy, and got dressed in no time. Now, Bruce was no fashion expert, but even he could appreciate how outdated Steve's clothes were. Plaid and pressed pants were nowhere near stylish.

_Perhaps_, Bruce thought, _he__ should get the team to do something about this_...

* * *

Tony did _not_ do a happy dance when he heard Banner had left the building along with Steve. And they were going to the Met. Because that was absolutely undignified. He knew Steve would have to be forcibly dragged out when the museum closed. That gave him until 6 pm, if he factored in travel time.

It was now one, and Tony was going to make the best of his five hours.

"JARVIS, give me a list of Banner's sizes."

"Oral or written, sir?"

"Written."

List in hand, Tony commandeered a Stark Industries employee. He told her to purchase a whole wardrobe for a woman of this specified size. As a bonus, here was five hundred dollars to spend on herself.

While she shopped, Tony cleared out Banner's closet. All of his clothes were hidden in the spare room down the hall that nobody used.

The woman returned at four, the limo Tony had loaned her full of bags; Tony enlisted several people to carry the bags. Obviously, _he_ wasn't going to do it!

Tony dismissed everybody after the last bags were brought up. He set to work putting things in drawers and arranging them artfully in the closet. At ten to six, Tony surveyed his handiwork proudly, before running for the elevator.

He didn't want to be within Banner's reach when he got back. Tony hurriedly suited up and flew out to hover near the Tower, watching through the window.

* * *

Bruce needed a shower desperately. His afternoon had consisted of trailing after an over-excited Steve, trying to keep his laughter from bursting forth. Hopefully, no villain found out that the best way to distract Captain America was to wave around modern art. Though, that would be fucking hilarious.

He tossed his clothes in the laundry chute and went into the bathroom.

When he came out, clad only in a towel, he walked over to the closet. He was almost certain that he hadn't left the door ajar, though.

When he moved to shut it, however, he got one of the greatest shocks of his life. All of his clothes were gone, replaced with dresses. He opened a drawer. Yep, definitely female clothing.

Taking a deep breath, he hurried to the elevator, still in nothing but a towel, a slight tinge of green staining his skin.

The Hulk containment chamber was eighty-seven floors away, though, and by the time there were only thirty floors between Bruce and his destination, he was almost too large for the elevator.

Desperately, he tried to open the doors, but his fingers were too large for the buttons. He also miscalculated his strength and now there was a large hole where the control panel used to be.

The Hulk ripped the doors open and stormed out. The floor was deserted, but a red box on the wall was making a pesky noise.

Ripping it off the wall, the Hulk nodded in satisfaction. That sound was gone now. Hulk made it go away.

Hulk was not really sure what he was supposed to do. Bruce was angry, so the Hulk woke up. Personally, Hulk thought Bruce deserved what Metal Man did. Bruce was annoying, and didn't let Hulk wake up enough.

Hulk liked to play. He started to throw a desk, when Circle Man was there. He had his circle, and was telling Hulk to calm down.

Hulk did _not _like being told to calm down.

Circle Man was screaming, "Stark, get down here! Thor, Barton, Romanoff. If you can hear me, I need backup. Hulk's here."

To add to the conversation, Hulk roared, "HULK SMASH!"

"Yes, Hulk, you can smash. But gently. See, like this?" And Captain America proceeded to throw a chair across the room. Destroying Stark's furniture was surprisingly therapeutic, he found.

* * *

"Sir, Dr. Banner is in the building. He appears to be going to his quarters."

"Thank you, JARVIS."

Tony focused on Banner's room, waiting for him to arrive. When he did, and tossed his clothes down the chute in preparation for his shower, Tony smirked. He smirked some more as Banner opened the closet door.

What he was not expecting was for Banner to start turning green.

Fuuuck. That was _not_ supposed to happen. Shit.

Tony decided that he should be nowhere near when Fury was notified. He would go to the other side of the state and...rescue kittens! Nobody could be pissed at a kitten rescuer!

He was halfway there when Steve's call for backup came.

Damn it, when did he get a conscience? He wanted a refund, ASAP.

He turned around, telling JARVIS to pull up the footage of Steve and the Hulk.

They were...smashing? Together?

At least the destruction was confined within the Tower, but still.

WAIT! The destruction was in _his _Tower?

"Capsicle, what the hell are you doing?"

"Hulk and I are smashing. It's actually pretty fun." The Hulk roared in the background.

When Tony got back to the Tower, he found several pissed off SHIELD agents, Fury, Barton, Romanoff, and Steve waiting for him. He was sorely tempted to turn right back around, but figured they would find him anyway. Tony Stark was not known for his subtlety.

Fury exploded, "Stark, what the FUCK were you thinking? You don't just piss off the man who turns into a giant green monster!"

"He wasn't supposed to Hulk out, honestly! How was I to know that he hated dresses that much?"

"Dresses?"

Romanoff explained (how did she even know this?), "Stark and Banner have been pranking each other. Banner distributed a picture of Stark with a bad haircut, Stark dyed Banner green. Banner replaced Stark's music with kiddie garbage, apparently Stark replaced Banner's wardrobe with women's clothing."

"Huh. Is life here really that fucking boring, that you have to resort to playing juvenile pranks like a couple of drunken frat boys?"

"Yeah, it actually is. Nobody but Barton and Romanoff has seen any action in weeks. My suit was getting _dusty_!"

"Fine. Thor is with Banner now. When Banner wakes up, and you are _not _to wake him yourself, you two will make nice. I don't care what it takes. Then, Stark, you will start patrolling the city. I want you out there ten hours a day."

"Wait a minute! Pepper has me practically on house arrest! She'll never agree to this."

"I can handle Ms. Potts."

* * *

Except Fury can't, because he's calling an hour later. "Stark, forget those patrols. Listen to Ms. Potts and keep your nose clean for a few days, and I'll consider you punished." He finished, muttering, "And I thought the aliens were scary..."

Nothing is left for Tony to do but wait, so he settled in the living room, telling JARVIS to alert him when Banner, no, Bruce, was awake. Maybe some food would soften him up.

* * *

When Bruce wakes up, the first thing he notices is his pounding headache. He usually has one, post-Hulk.

Then he remembers, and he groans.

"Are you feeling well, Bruce? Can I do anything?" Steve is sitting in an armchair, watching Bruce closely. His shield is leaning up against the side of the chair.

"Can you get me the bottle of painkillers from by the sink and a glass of water?"

Steve retrieves the medicine.

"Thank you."

"Here. We took all of the clothes out of your room, but we can't find yours. We should be about the same size."

Bruce just _knows_ that this is karma. He never should have thought badly about Steve's clothes because now they were his as well. At least Steve brought him jeans and not khakis.

"Thank you, Steve. That is very considerate of you. Do I want to know what happened?"

"You became the Hulk on your way to the containment room. He," Steve mumbled something, then finished more clearly, "smashed up some offices pretty well, but that was the extent of the damage."

"I missed part of that last sentence. Can you please repeat yourself?"

"I said, the Hulk and I smashed up a floor of offices. It was fun. There."

"You _smashed_ with the Hulk? And he didn't kill you?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Dr. Banner, Captain Rogers, but Mr. Stark wants to talk to Dr. Banner. He is attempting to cook as a peace offering, and it is not going so well."

Bruce is throwing back the covers and standing because the last thing is needs is Stark poisoning him before he realizes that Steve is still in the room.

Shit, now things will be awkward again. Why does he even mind nudity? It's not like he hasn't seen it before.

Steve is blushing and Bruce shoos him out so he can dress in peace.

* * *

Steve comes rushing into the kitchen. Tony is offended to see how visibly relieved he is that nothing is burning. That doesn't stop Steve from nudging Tony to the side and taking over the stir-fry, though.

When Bruce appears, it's all Tony can do to prevent himself from laughing or taking pictures. He makes a mental note to just pull those off the security camera later, however. Bruce looks like a slightly shorter, brown-haired version of Steve!

Tony's tempted to give him his clothes back out of sympathy, but he decides to use those as a measure of last resort. He's got Fury and _Pepper_ on his case, after all.

Luckily, it doesn't take much for Bruce to agree to a truce. He's a little shaken from how easily he lost control.

With that resolved, the rest of the team emerges from their hiding places around the kitchen. _How did Thor even get in the pantry? His shoulders are bigger than the door..._

"My friends, I wish to watch a MOVIE! Perhaps that delightful one with the talking CAT?"

Truce settled, Tony decides he can handle a movie night. If Puss in Boots has just disappeared from the cabinet, it's only because he can't stand to watch it one more time. He'd rather let Banner hit him again.

* * *

Bruce's head feels better, and the stir-fry was surprisingly good. Well, what little of it he got to eat before Thor materialized from the pantry and started eating directly from the wok.

He, too, cannot stand to see Puss in Boots again so soon. When it is discovered missing, he shoots Tony a grateful look. He catches Natasha watching him, so he makes a point to sit in her favorite chair while she's occupied with a distressed Thor.

Thor is eventually persuaded to watch Harry Potter.

Bruce knows Clint will be regretting that suggestion later, after Thor asks, for the millionth time, "WHY do they require that STICK to do MAGIC? My BROTHER needs NO such thing!"


	6. Addition

**Thanks to dysprositos, my beta, for the science help!**

**WARNING: language.**

* * *

All was well with the Avengers. Tony's Pepper-enforced probation had ended earlier in the week, some new upstarts had ideas about taking over the world which they got to dispel, and there was no more pranking.

Good things don't last for long, as least as far as Steve was concerned, however.

He was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When it did, the only thing that surprised Steve was Tony's reaction. He went running through the common room, shrieking for Bruce.

Natasha pointed him towards Bruce's lab, and Steve figured he'd better follow. Who knew what kind of trouble an angry Tony and Bruce could get into in the lab.

Trailing after Tony, Steve was surprised to see Bruce standing outside the lab door, glaring at the keypad. When he heard Tony's approach, he whirled, anger showing in the tightness around his eyes.

"Why can't I get in? What the fuck did you lock me out for?"

"Lock you out, what the hell are you talking about? Where the fuck is my scotch? It's all gone!"

"What do I know about your scotch? You know I don't drink. Now why can't I access my lab?"

Seeing that this was about to become violent (again), Steve stepped in. "Wait a minute. Tony, your scotch is missing, and Bruce, you can't get into the lab. You both deny doing this to each other, so maybe someone else did?"

Simultaneously, "WHAT?"

"Bruce hasn't been near the penthouse, has he, JARVIS?"

"No, Captain Rogers, Dr. Banner has not."

"And Tony hasn't modified the entry code for Bruce's lab, has he?"

"No, Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark has not."

"See? Somebody else is trying to turn the two of you against each other."

Tony's brilliant response was, "Huh?"

Bruce suddenly cocked his head, listening. He quieted the others and pointed.

Cackling could be heard from the air vent opposite the lab entrance. Steve strode over to it and peered in.

"It's Clint."

"You'd better run, Barton. If I get my hands on you..." Tony trailed off, trying to think of a punishment worse enough.

Scrambling sounds were audible. Tony smirked, "I've still got it."

While they were distracted, the overhead vent popped open silently.

"Move, boys," Natasha commanded. They stepped aside and she dropped, landing in a crouch silently.

"Why the fuck were you in there?" Tony wanted to know.

"I had to watch Clint make a fool of himself. I was hoping Bruce would smash him, personally."

"Natasha, we don't want our teammates to hurt each other," Steve reprimanded exasperatedly, running a hand over his face. Sometimes he felt like the parent of five unruly children.

"But it's so fun, Cap!" Tony piped in.

"This is good and all, but what are we going to do about Barton?" Bruce wanted to know.

"I suggest not planning in a hallway full of hiding places, first of all. I was eating breakfast, so I'm going to go finish that now. _Please _don't kill each other. Or piss off Fury too much. Coming, Natasha?" Steve headed off purposefully, Natasha trailing in his wake.

* * *

Bruce and Tony decamped to the lab, using Tony's passcode to get in, and went into the bathroom, where there were no Clint-sized air vents. Tony pulled his tablet out of his pocket and swiped at the screen a few times, typing something in.

"There, Bruce, now you can access your lab again. Now, what should we do about Barton?"

"Thanks. Oh, I have a few ideas."

"Well? Share them."

"I was thinking...we could paint his nails. I did some research on this type of polish that only comes off with a special remover. I remember seeing an article about its popularity some time ago..."

"So he'd be stuck with painted nails until he figures it out? Nice."

"Unless Natasha helps him. We need to get her out of the way."

"I'll do that. You get the polish. I don't think he'll just sit still for us to paint his nails, so we should drug him."

"DRUG him?"

"Hey! Keep it down! Fuck yes, drug him. He was going to get us in trouble with Fury for pranking each other, right? But Fury never said anything about us pranking other people."

"I guess you're right. I'm supposed to do the grocery shopping anyway, so I can just pick up some stuff while I'm out. Do you care about color? I was thinking pink..."

"Pink sounds great, Bruce," Tony clapped him on the back and opened the door, preparing to go find Natasha. She would need some serious bribery, but Tony knew better than to guess at her tastes. That had _backfired_ the last time he tried it.

* * *

Bruce went to the supermarket a couple blocks over and the health food store. _Damn that Natasha and her granola..._

He stopped in at the drugstore and purchased neon pink Shellac. Just for kicks, he grabbed some rhinestones, too.

When he got back to the Tower, he hid the goods in Thor's room. The god had gone back to Asgard for a week, so nobody else should be in there.

That done, he only had to meet with Tony and decide how they were going to drug Clint.

* * *

Tony had a hard time getting Natasha by herself. Everywhere he went, Clint or Steve appeared around the corner.

Finally, he and she were alone in the training range. He explained what he wanted. She was open to working with them, for a price, of course.

She wanted a new Glock, and to be taken off cooking duty for the rest of the month. Tony, being the good friend that he was, graciously volunteered Bruce to take over the cooking, and told her to buy the gun and charge it to him.

They shook hands on the deal, and Tony left her to her targets. It was fucking creepy how well she could shoot. Seeing those bullets landing on the left side of the dummy's chest and its head was unnerving, to say the least.

"Sir, Dr. Banner has returned and is looking for you."

"Tell him to meet me at the same place."

"Yes, Mr. Stark."

* * *

"Well, Dr. Banner, you're the physician of this group. What do you suggest we use to knock out Barton?"

"How about diazepam? That would be effective. Can you get it?"

"I'll just make it. I should have all the materials I need in the lab. Before I forget, you've got Romanoff's cooking duties for the rest of the month."

Bruce's reaction was to go a little green around the edges. Tony squeaked (in a very manly way) and cautiously stepped backwards.

He blinked, and when his eyes refocused on Bruce, his coloration was back to normal.

"HOLY FUCK, Banner! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry." But Bruce clearly wasn't.

They agreed to slip the diazepam, once Tony made it, into Clint's dinner. Steve was cooking, so Tony (Bruce was _adamant _about that) would volunteer to help, dosing Clint's serving just before putting it on the table.

* * *

"Hey, Cap. Want some help?"

"Yes, thank you, Tony. I'm glad to see you taking some initiative around here."

"You know me. Initiative is my middle name."

"I thought it was Edward?"

"First of all, we NEVER say that word."

"Edward?"

"You're interrupting, Spangles. Yes, Edward. And saying that something is your middle name is just modern slang."

"Oh. Thank you for explaining that."

_Does he really have to be so _fucking_ polite all the time? It's nauseating_, Tony thought.

Steve assigned him to the salad, figuring that Tony couldn't do much harm to vegetables.

Tony volunteered to set the table, carrying out the full plates. He dusted a translucent powder onto Clint's portion.

When the other Avengers seated themselves, they were all slightly alarmed by Tony's smirk.

Except for Bruce, that is.


	7. Execution

**A Hulk-sized thank you to my beta, dysprositos, for all the help and Bruce-love.**

**WARNING: language.**

* * *

When Clint collapsed, it was Natasha who caught him. Professionally, she assessed his vitals before shrugging and heaving him into a fireman's carry.

"Do you need any help, Natasha? Can you carry him?" Steve, the mother hen, wanted to know.

Natasha's response was to pivot and kick Steve in the kneecap, Clint's unconscious body still hanging over her shoulder. Tony cackled.

Steve stumbled backwards a few paces (_boy, did she pack a kick_). "I'm guessing that's a 'no', then. Why did Clint pass out? Tony, Bruce?"

"Hey, don't look at me! I only work here, you know."

Bruce beat a hasty retreat while Tony was speaking. Once he was out of the room, he released the laughter he had been holding in.

"JARVIS, _please_ tell me you have footage of that."

"What exactly are you interested in, Dr. Banner?"

"Start five seconds before Clint passed out up until right after Natasha kicked Steve." Because after your alter ego nearly kills a person, you're on a first name basis with them, even if they are a kick-ass super spy.

"Yes, sir. Would you like it sent to your personal server?"

"Yeah. And, uh, send a copy to Tony, too. But don't let him put it on YouTube. I don't think Director Fury's blood pressure can take that again."

"Of course, sir."

That done, Bruce had smoothed a hand over his face and gone back into the room. Steve and Tony were sitting at the table in silence, Steve eating and Tony watching him, fascinated.

"Do you always eat _that _much?"

"Mhumph!"

"Now, now, now, Cap. Don't talk with your mouth full. Didn't anybody ever teach you that's bad manners?"

"Go to hell, Tony." Steve's easy smile softened the insult. He'd long since accepted that his appetite would be the butt of jokes.

Bruce coughed, and the two turned to look at him, startled.

"Tony, are you done eating? You promised to help me work out that differential equation."

"So I did," Tony replied with a showy wink.

_Damn, could he be any less subtle?_ Bruce thought. _I mean, I thought we were at least trying to hide the fact that it was us. Clint's going to know, that's inevitable, but _Steve?

He hid his irritation well, though, and grabbed Tony's arm, none too gently. "Come on."

"Fuck, Bruce! That fucking hurts!" Tony wasn't at his most intelligent then, finding it hard to think through the pain.

Steve looked like he was going to get up and interfere, so Bruce lessened the pressure and waved, "Bye, Steve."

Steve's mouth was too full for him to do anything but wave back. The food on the fork in his hand was flung through the air, where it landed on the opposite wall with an audible "smack."

Tony had inhaled, clearly about to go on a tirade, so Bruce _yank__ed_ his arm, forcibly dragging him from the room to the soundtrack of Steve's apologies.

"Tony, he's Captain Fucking America. He will clean the wall off, in fact, he's probably already halfway done."

"I still should get to yell at him though," Tony pouted.

"You know that doesn't work on me. It doesn't work on anyone, Pepper just pretends to make you feel better."

"SHE DOES NOT, DAMN IT!"

_Obviously, this is going to be a _long_ evening,_ Bruce mused.

* * *

Tony quits being a diva when Bruce tells him that he bought rhinestones. He snaps to attention so fast that Bruce's nascent medical skills want to check Tony for whiplash.

He stifles the urge, and heads for Thor's bedroom. Pulling the bag out from its hiding place, he asks, "JARVIS, where is Natasha?"

"Agent," and Bruce swears there's a special emphasis on the word, "Romanoff is in the dining room with Captain Rogers, sir."

"Thank you, JARVIS." Bruce knows he's just a machine, but Steve must be rubbing off on him. He had never been this polite before he moved to the Tower.

They attempt to sneak down the hall to Clint's room like secret agents, just because they can.

Bruce acknowledges that this behavior is liberating. A rumble in the back of his mind seems to agree.

When they get inside, Tony locks the door while Bruce checks Clint over.

"He's still out, Tony."

"Don't call me by my goddamn name! We need code names. I call double-oh-seven."

_James Bond, really?_ "Just call me Doc."

"And I thought the fucking unoriginality prize had already been won. You shame me, Green."

Bruce hates the name, but there's nothing he can do about it at the moment.

Instead, he grabs Clint's left hand and puts it flat on the empty bag. Uncapping the polish, he offers the bottle to Tony. "You want to do the honors?"

"Nah, you go ahead. I'd rather put on the sparkles."

Silence reigns as Bruce works. But a quiet Tony is never good. It means he's _thinking_.

So Bruce starts an inane conversation about Bond, just to keep at least a fraction of Tony's mind occupied.

He finishes with the first hand, and moves to the other side of the bed to do the other.

Tony smirks as he pulls the packaging off the rhinestones. "What did they say at the store when you bought these?"

The cashier had actually asked Bruce that, but he had been unable to formulate an appropriate response. He had just blushed. But because he's the kind of person who thinks up snappy comebacks five minutes after they would have been useful, he answers, "I told them they were for my daughter. They thought that was pretty cute."

Tony snorts, "I bet they did." But really, it's a good answer, so he has to give mental credit to Bruce.

When Bruce finishes Clint's right hand, he reaches over and tears the rhinestone package in half, carefully applying them to the nails, despite Tony's protests. "I want to be finished in here well before he wakes up, Tony."

Tony concedes, pulling a tablet out and taking pictures of their handiwork.

They retreat down the hall in silence, both using their exaggerated sneaking moves. They shake hands when they reach the elevator, Tony entering and Bruce turning to the side to take the stairs. His room is just up one floor, and if he knows Tony, the man will be in his lab until all hours of the night, working on some ungodly experiment.

* * *

Natasha finishes her dinner in record time, having returned to the dining room after dumping Clint on his bed to sleep off...whatever he had ingested. "Steve," she says, because she too had fallen victim to his first name campaign, "I'm going to the range."

"Oh, sure, Natasha. Have a good time."

She motherfucking plans to.

Moving to the stairs, she goes down two floors before switching to the emergency stairs hidden at the end of the hall. Who wants the Goody-Two-Shoes to know that you're an accomplice to the latest prank, after all?

When she reaches her bedroom, one floor above Clint's, she's quick to bark commands at JARVIS, setting up the surveillance footage.

This is going to be damn good.

And it is. She saves the video of the scientists attempting to sneak down the hall in some gross imitation of a spy to _her_ personal server. It's more encrypted than SHIELD's.

Because who knows when you'll need to blackmail Bruce Banner? Tony, of course, has no shame, but the good doctor certainly does.

If she rubs her hands together like a B-movie villain and grins, who's there to see but JARVIS? And he's _scared_ of her.

She, too, takes pictures of the finished product. When she emails one to Pepper, she is not being vindictive _at all_.

Pepper's response is quick, and _exactly_ what Natasha expected.

"I'm laughing so hard. Tony's going to catch it, of course, but can you picture Clint's _face_? I want footage of his reaction, Tash. You're the best. Thanks!"

Natasha shoots back a reply, promising to update Pepper in the morning, after she gets "some damn sleep. Because you look like shit. Tony makes you work too hard."

Her ability to fall asleep at will has never deserted her, so when the action's over, Natasha is out like a light.

* * *

Steve _knows_ something fishy has been going on, and Clint's scream the next morning confirms his suspicions. Why do so many mornings start out this way?

Sighing, he gets out of bed, preparing to go defuse the tension. Really, how _dumb_ do they think he is?


	8. Bad Morning

**Thank you to dysprositos, my beta, for fixing my tense issues and a whole bunch of other stuff. You're the best.**

**WARNING: language.**

* * *

Steve arrives at a standoff. Clint's got his bow drawn and aimed point blank at Tony and Bruce. Tony's barely conscious and leaning heavily on Bruce, who is wearing one of Steve's oversized t-shirts from some school he's never heard of because they _still_ haven't found Bruce's clothes.

Sighing, he reaches over and removes the arrow from the bow, breaking it in half. Then, he grabs the bow itself.

Disarmed, Clint resorts to swearing. "Fuck you both. Pink, damn it?"

The two scientists smile in synchronicity (_damn, but that's _scary).

Clint throws up his hands and Steve notices Clint's nails. Steve can't help himself, he really can't, when he bursts into laughter. Clint stalks from the room in a huff, muttering under his breath.

* * *

Clint had woken up disoriented. The last thing he remembered was eating dinner. JARVIS helpfully told him the date and time.

He was _pissed_. How dare those two?

He only became more angry when he caught sight of his hands. The nails were neon pink with _rhinestones_ on them. His left hand featured little designs—was that a TS? Yes, yes it was. That was obviously Stark's handiwork.

His right hand was rhinestone-adorned, too, but simpler. The faux diamonds were randomly placed, almost sloppy. Banner must have done those.

JARVIS said Natasha wasn't awake yet, and Clint knew she was his best chance at fixing this (and she's fucking_ scary_). He decided to confront the scientists first and ask her for polish remover later.

* * *

The whole 'confronting-the-scientists' plan was _ruined_ by the good Captain. Why does he have to be so fucking responsible all the damn time?

Clint is stalking to his room when he realizes that even if he can't confront the pranksters directly, they get pretty fucking startled when he makes noises in the air vents.

So he changes direction, pulling a screwdriver from his pocket. (So what, he's a secret fucking agent!)

He removes the screws from the air vent by the elevator and cautions JARVIS, "I will rip out your motherboard if you tell Stark or Banner where I am."

"Yes, Agent Barton. Will there be anything else?"

Clint _swears_ Stark programmed the AI to be sarcastic, despite his near-constant denial.

He hops into the vent and follows the faint sounds of laughter to the vent above the kitchen. Banner is seated at the island, Stark's leaning against it with a cup of coffee in his hand, and Steve's wearing that damn pink frilly apron Clint bought him as a gag and cooking breakfast.

It smells so good and he _wants_ some. Sighing, he realizes that he can't startle the scientists with Steve around, not if he wants some of that food. So, he retreats back to his point of entry into the vent system and climbs out, replacing the screws.

"JARVIS, is Tasha up yet?"

"Yes, Agent Barton. Agent Romanoff is awake and in the shower. Do you have a message for her?" Clint can hear the fear in the AI's voice.

"Nah, that's ok. But thanks anyway, buddy."

"You are welcome, Agent Barton."

* * *

Steve knows Clint was climbing around in the vents earlier, so he's relieved when the agent walks, apparently unarmed, into the kitchen.

"Hungry, Clint?"

"Yeah. Can I take two plates to-go?"

"Sure. One's for Natasha, right?" Steve wants to make sure she has breakfast. She is one dedicated lady, that's for sure, and he knows she skips meals sometimes. Hell, they _all_ do. What's the point of eating when there are intergalactic villains to face?

He fixes up the two plates and offers Clint drinks. Clint accepts and leaves the kitchen with two faintly steaming plates of food balanced on top of two glasses of orange juice in his pink-painted hands.

Steve knows Clint is trying to butter Natasha up so that she will help him with some plan involving revenge on Tony and Bruce. Steve _should_ stop this, but he secretly thinks the practical jokes are funny. And the team needs a stress reliever. If this works for them, then who is he to interfere?

* * *

Natasha is toweling her hair off when she walks back into her room. Clint's lounging on her bed, eating. A plate, presumably for her, sits on her desk next to a glass of OJ. She's naked, sure, but it's nothing he hasn't seen before.

She disappears into her closet and emerges pulling a t-shirt over her head. Sitting in the desk chair, she takes several bites of the food at once, giving herself time to clandestinely admire Tony and Bruce's handiwork. They did a damn good job, if she does say so herself.

"I don't usually get breakfast delivered unless you want something, Clint. So what's up?"

"WHAT'S UP? Fuck you, Nat. Fuck you."

"Your nails are pink, Clint. That hardly calls for this reaction," she answers primly.

"Do you have any damn polish remover, Tasha?"

"Yes, I do. Let me eat my goddamn food while it's hot, won't you?"

He does. Nobody motherfucking messes with Natasha. Except one person. That reminds her—she needs to pull the security footage of Clint's reaction to send to Pepper.

After she eats, she rummages around in her bathroom for a minute before tossing a bottle at Clint. "Just put some of this on a cotton ball and scrub. Have fun!"

* * *

Somehow, Clint finds himself standing outside Natasha's room with a green bottle and their dirty dishes in his hands. Damn her.

Resigned, he carries the dishes back to the kitchen and puts them in the sink. 'Cause, fuck it, it's not his turn to wash them. A quick look at the schedule on the fridge confirms that it is Banner's turn. Ha, serves him right.

He heads to the medical bay and rummages around in the cabinets until he finds the cotton balls. He returns to his room and enters the bathroom, dumping his supplies next to the sink.

He is following Nat's instructions to the letter when he notices that the polish is _not_ coming off. He spends five more minutes on that nail before throwing up his hands in a huff and stomping out. His destination: Natasha.

* * *

When Clint leaves, Natasha pulls the footage for Pepper and sent it hurriedly. She doesn't expect a response until that evening; Pepper really does work too hard.

She starts a live feed of Clint and settles in to read her book, checking the computer every minute or so.

Clint leaves the bathroom, and that's her cue to go hide. In the mood he's in, Clint will hit first and ask questions. Natasha doesn't _want_ to have to hand his ass to him, as fun as it might be. She darts down the hall to a spare bedroom, opening the door and slipping inside.

The room should not have been used for quite some time, but her trained eye notices that someone's been in here in the last couple of months.

In front of the closet seems particularly disturbed, so it's with extra caution that she eases the door open.

Of course, she finds Bruce's missing clothes there. Glancing at the tablet in her hand to make sure Clint isn't on to her yet (he isn't), she snatches up a few items.

"JARVIS, where are Stark and Bruce?" she types.

His answer is instantaneous. "They are in Lab 3."

She doesn't bother to thank him; he _is_ a computer, after all.

* * *

Tony and Bruce are happily absorbed in some science experiment-or-other as she steals inside their lab. As long as they don't blow that shit up _again_, she's glad they're busy.

Bruce jumps about ten feet in the air when he glances up and notices her standing there, watching them. He elbows Tony harshly and takes several deep breaths.

Tony, too, startles when he sees Natasha, but he is quick to notice what she holds in her hands.

"Damn, you found them. I was just getting used to mini-Cap here."

Bruce _knew_ his clothes were still in the Tower, that's why he refused all offers to buy a new wardrobe. Why waste money on petty stuff like clothes? Steve didn't mind sharing, and all the others had chipped in a few items here and there, even Natasha. In fact, he's pretty sure that he's wearing her socks right now.

"My clothes! You found them. Thank you, Natasha!"

"Don't worry about it. The rest are in the closet of the third spare room on the right, sixty-fifth floor."

"Thank you, Natasha." Bruce looks like he might even come hug her, so Natasha's glad when Tony intervenes.

"Your Glock got here this morning. It's on the table in the TV room."

If her eyes light up when he says that, neither of the men is brave enough to comment on it.

* * *

"JARVIS, I give up. Where _is_ Natasha?"

"I cannot tell you that, Agent Barton. She has made numerous threats upon my person if I at any time go against her wishes. Revealing her location would be doing just that."

"First of all, you're a fucking _computer_. You don't _have_ a 'person'. Secondly, did she give this to you as a direct order?"

"I am _not_ a mere _computer_," JARVIS sounds affronted at the very thought. "No, she did not."

"Alrighty then. Override code alpha sixteen."

"I wish you had not done that, Agent Barton. Agent Romanoff is in the shooting range."

Clint pivots, headed for the nearest elevator.

* * *

Natasha is in the range, wielding a suspiciously shiny gun.

"Hey, is that new?"

She doesn't seem startled at the sound of his approach. _Fuck, the damn AI must have warned her._

"Yes." She's focused.

"This polish remover doesn't work. Is it expired or something?"

"It shouldn't be. Did you look at the bottle?"

He hadn't. _Dumb, Barton, real fucking dumb_.

He heads back up to his room to take a look without saying another word to her. Something fishy's going on here, he can just feel it.


	9. Correction

**Thank you, dysprositos, my beta, for being a wonderful person and appreciating the scientists and THOR!**

**The wonderful wanderingidealism made a picture for RR and it's wonderful. You can find the picture over on deviantart at werewolveskickass.**

**WARNING: language. I feel redundant.**

* * *

Clint inspects the polish remover bottle closely, turning it over in his hands. The expiration date has not passed, and nothing else _looks _wrong. But then again, what does _he_ know about fingernail polish remover?

Shrugging, he tries to use it one more time, on a different finger, to give Tasha the benefit of the doubt.

It _still_ doesn't work.

Googling "nail polish that won't fucking come off" yields no helpful results, either.

Something fishy _is_ going on around here.

He wouldn't put it past the scientists to invent some kind of a permanent motherfucking nail polish, just to get back at him.

And they've obviously gotten fucking Tasha on their side, since she won't help him. Thinking back to the chore schedule on the fridge, he had seen Banner's name on there a lot, and Natasha's not at all. That gun looked mighty shiny and new, too.

If she's out, then he has to go to female #2: Pepper. She had been against Tony's pranking, so she would probably help him.

* * *

Pepper's office was on the highest floor of Stark Industries' main office, located in downtown Manhattan. She was having a good day. The stock was up, nobody had called in sick, and Tony hadn't done anything crazy.

She was understandably wary when her secretary paged her to say that a 'Clint Barton' was asking to see her.

"Send him in."

Clint came in, heavy leather gloves on his hands. Of course, Pepper already knew why they were there, but she felt the need to ask anyway. "Clint, why are you wearing those gloves? It's the middle of the summer."

To answer, he wordlessly pulled the gloves off and displayed his hands. Pepper had seen the pictures, but the real deal was _so_ much better.

She was skilled at hiding her reactions, though, so she just smiled benignly at him and inquired, "What can I do for you?"

"I need help. I woke up like this and I _know_ it was Stark and Banner, but I can't get this damn polish off! I borrowed some polish remover from Nat, but it didn't work. Since Tony did this, will you _please_ help me?"

"Sorry, Clint. I don't know much about nail polish. I almost never use it myself."

_Oh._ _Duh, Barton. Can't you tell that by looking at her hands?_ he thought.

"Well, I'm sorry for taking up your time. Thank you."

She'd turned back to her work, and it was clear that she wasn't going to say anything else, so Clint backed towards the door slowly.

She _was _the one person who ranked anywhere near Natasha on the scale of scariness, after all.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Pepper was free to release the laughter she'd been holding in. Once she calmed enough to be rational, she pulled the security footage from Clint's visit (including her reaction because she knew Tash would get a kick out of that) and sent it off to Natasha.

Then she resumed her work, tranquil mask back in place.

* * *

Clint leaves the building, pulling his gloves back on.

Pepper was his last resort before he had to do something desperate. It's now that time.

He pulls out his phone. "JARVIS, give me a list of the nail places in the area. I want a nice one, where the employees won't talk."

"Of course, Agent Barton. Here," and the screen flashes with a list.

Clint notes the address of the nearest one, and heads in that direction.

* * *

Shit. The place is swanky and opulent. Stark and Tasha would be right at home in here, he just knows, but Clint's ill at ease.

He perseveres, though, going up to the receptionist and asking her, "Can I see one of the people who does the nail shit?" _Fuck_, "I mean 'stuff'."

She doesn't look ruffled. "Yes, sir. Is the appointment for you or someone else?"

"Me. And I don't want to make an appointment, I want to see someone _now_." He lets a little darkness seep into his voice and is gratified to see her reaction. She looks up from the cell phone she had been texting on under the counter and stares at him, slightly bug-eyed.

"Yes, sir. Um, I think Sally's available. Just let me go check." She practically trips over her ridiculously high heels as she makes her escape.

"Sally is available. Right this way, please."

Clint follows her to the back, into a private room. Damn, he didn't think he was _that_ scary!

Another girl comes in, wearing a nametag that says 'Sally.'

She looks from Clint's anxious stance, to his gloved hands, and to his face before smiling. _This must not be the first time she's done this_, Clint can't help but think.

He explains the situation to her and she laughs.

"Men! You're all the _same_! This is more than likely a polish called Shellac, that requires a special solution to remove. Just let me try that."

She pulls a bottle out of a desk and tries it. It works, but slowly.

"I doubt your friends applied this properly. It's supposed to sit under a UV lamp. You wouldn't happen to know if they did use one, would you?"

Clint wouldn't.

In five more minutes, she's finished. He thanks her profusely and asks, "Do I pay you or what?"

"You pay _the bill_ up front."

It takes Clint a minute to realize why she's emphasizing those two words.

"Oh. Yeah. Here," and he pulls a twenty out of his pocket.

Her face brightens considerably and she waves him out.

_Good thing I raided Stark's wallet earlier, then_, Clint thinks.

He pays with his official Stark Industries card that Stark had all but forced on the occupants of the Tower when they moved in.

The receptionist gives him a funny look when she sees the familiar logo, but what the hell, she _already _thinks he's weird.

* * *

Back in the Tower, Clint pouts in his room for the rest of the day. Using Stark's money and knowing that Banner has to do Tasha's KP makes him feel only marginally better.

He can't think of any decent responses to this indignity. He's relieved when JARVIS announces that it is dinnertime.

He eats with the other four occupants in residence. The meal is mostly silent, broken only by Steve's attempts to start a conversation ("How was your day, Bruce?" followed by a sullen "Fine") and the requests to pass something.

Both scientists had noticed Clint's hands after Nat burst out laughing, and neither had stopped pouting since.

Steve seems mostly oblivious to the tension in the room, of course. "Clint, I'm glad you got your hands back to normal. Want to spar later?"

* * *

They finish and disperse to their usual evening activities. Steve and Natasha watch a movie, Clint goes to sulk in the archery range, and Bruce and Tony go to do god-knows-what in the lab.

When everybody's asleep (which means it's three in the morning because Tony does _not_ do normal hours), a crack of thunder heralds Thor's return from Asgard.

"MY FRIENDS! I have RETURNED!"

"Master Thor, please keep your voice down. The others are all asleep," JARVIS informs him.

"Who said that?" At least Thor manages something resembling an inside voice.

"It is I, JARVIS, Mr. Stark's AI. Remember, Master Thor?"

"YES, now I DO!"

"Quiet, please! Would you care to go to your room?"

"No, I just rested in Asgard before returning. Can you direct me to one of those delightful emporiums that is open all hours of the day and night?"

"Do you mean Wal-Mart, Master Thor?"

"I do NOT KNOW, voice." Thor's short-term memory needs some work, apparently. JARVIS makes a note to tell Captain Rogers. He's sure to do something.

JARVIS is about 95% certain that Thor _does_ mean Wal-Mart, so he reminds Thor where his cell phone is and once he has it, guides him to the store.

* * *

The next morning, it is Steve's scream that splits the silence.


	10. Coordination

**My beta, dysprositos, is wonderful and fabulous and many other adjectives. Thank you!**

**WARNING: language (as always).**

* * *

Steve had been sleeping peacefully, dreaming lovely American dreams. A faceless woman, two kids, a picket fence, and all that jazz.

Slowly, he began to wake up, stretching for a minute with his eyes closed.

He got the shock of his (very long) life when he opened them.

Loki was standing over him.

Steve screamed and rolled over the side of his bed, diving for the corner of his room where his shield lay.

He had it strapped on his forearm, over his pajama top, before you could say "Captain America."

When he pivoted to face Loki, dropping into a defensive crouch, he saw something...unusual. Loki hadn't moved. His facial expression hadn't even changed. His sneer had a fixed appearance about it. Odd.

Steve was cautiously inching toward the villain when his bedroom door burst open, revealing the very disheveled Clint and Natasha, weapons of choice in their hands. A tousled Bruce peeked over her shoulder.

The resulting gust of wind knocked Loki over. Steve jumped.

"What's the matter, Cap?" Clint wanted to know.

"What's that? Why is there a piece of cardboard in the middle of the floor?" Natasha, ever perceptive, questioned.

Bruce just took several deep breaths, seeing that there was no evident danger. Nobody should have to wrangle the Hulk this early in the morning.

Steve simply moved over to Loki, and flipped him around, inspecting the back and offering his team a wordless explanation.

Clint and Natasha exchanged a wary glance before advancing to poke at the cutout. Once they were assured it was not real, both devolved into laughter. Natasha's was deep, while Clint's bordered on high-pitched hysterics.

Clint pointed at Steve with a finger that shook from his convulsions, who glanced down at himself. Okay, Steve could see the hilarity in Captain America, wearing footie pajamas, wielding his shield at a piece of cardboard. He let out a few chuckles of his own before sobering up.

"Did any of you do this?"

Bruce shook his head negatively, as did Natasha.

"No, Cap, but damn, I wish I had."

"That only leaves one possible culprit. Tony." Steve deduced.

"Pardon the interruption, Captain Rogers, but Mr. Stark has been nowhere near your quarters during the night. However, you did have another visitor."

Steve looked at Natasha, who was the obvious candidate for making JARVIS talk. She pointed a gun threateningly at a corner of the ceiling. Steve looked over curiously, wondering why she was threatening the juncture between ceiling and wall. _Oh, there's a camera up there_, he realized. _Wait. _Why_ is there a camera in my room? Tony's got some 'splaining to do._

Steve had been catching up on his sitcoms lately.

"Yes, Agent Romanoff?" JARVIS _sounded_ scared.

"Who was in here, JARVIS?"

"It was Master Thor, ma'am."

"He's back? And _don't_ call me ma'am."

"Yes, Agent Romanoff," JARVIS's voice almost quivered, "Master Thor returned at about three in the morning. He asked for directions to an 'emporium' and I directed him to Wal-Mart."

"What the fuck did motherfucking _Thor_ want at _Wal-Mart_?" Clint piped in, the early morning apparently increasing his vulgarity.

"I do not know, Agent Barton. He returned and acted very secretive, sneaking into Captain Rogers's room with something under his arm."

Back in control of himself, Bruce asked, "Where's Tony, JARVIS?"

"Mr. Stark is in his room, asleep, Dr. Banner."

"Who cares about Tony? Where's Thor?" Clint, pragmatic as always, queried.

"Master Thor is not in the building, Agent Barton."

"Smart man. Well, there appears to be no emergency here. I'm going to shower. Steve, you're making breakfast, remember?" Natasha announced.

"Uh yeah. Sure. Just let me change first. French toast and eggs okay?"

Clint's face lit up. Steve took that as a yes, and turned to his dresser.

While his back was turned, it was Bruce, surprisingly, who stepped forward to snag the cardboard cutout. Defensively, he whispered, "What? He's been pissing me off lately!"

Natasha and Clint shrugged simultaneously, like 'it's your funeral'.

When Steve turned back around, his room was empty. Except for that damn camera in the corner. He grabbed an extra shirt and threw it over the lens.

* * *

Bruce carries the cardboard cutout of Loki in front of him so he can inspect it more closely. It _is_ a good likeness. He doubts it will fool Tony for more than a couple seconds, but those couple seconds will be fucking hilarious.

He slips into Tony's room quietly, carefully setting up the cutout next to his bed.

Shutting the door behind him as gently as he can, Bruce all but sprints back to his room and laptop.

He uses the backdoor into JARVIS he saved from the music incident to delete the footage of him in Tony's room and program the AI to tell Tony that it was Thor who planted the figure. Clint and Natasha won't talk, if they know what's good for them, and Steve doesn't know. All his bases should be covered.

* * *

Breakfast is a lovely affair, quiet. Until Tony's (very manly) shriek shatters the calm.

Without needing to be told, JARVIS pulls up the footage from when Tony wakes. It's quite funny to see the billionaire shriek and haul the covers up over his chest. Then he pauses, cocks his head quizzically, and bursts into laughter.

"Real time, please, JARVIS." Natasha requests.

The footage switches over just in time to see the bedroom door swinging shut behind Tony. The assembled group shares a long glance before Steve slashes a hand through the image dissolving it, and rises to pour Tony a cup of coffee and fix him a plate of breakfast.

Steve _is _the peacemaker, after all.

Tony storms into the kitchen, body language indicating his anger. He sputters some incoherent syllables at the assembled group before his eyes land on Steve's offering. He rushes the supersoldier, grabbing the mug away.

Steve shakes his head and sets the plate at an empty spot on the table. He did _not_ purposefully pick a spot next to Bruce to see the scientist squirm, no sir. Steve has no proof, but he's got a strong suspicion that Bruce is the culprit.

Steve should not have been attempting mental sarcasm because he's apparently missed something now. Not that he understands _half_ of what goes on around here, of course.

Tony's glaring and pointing some kind of weapon at Clint, who has both hands in the air. Only one of Natasha's hands is visible, which usually is a bad sign. And Bruce has one eye closed, the other squinted to keep an eye on the action, and is taking deep breaths.

Sighing, Steve steps in between Tony and Clint, easily disarming the billionaire. Déjà vu hits. Wasn't he doing this the other day, just in reverse?

Tony gives up easily, pouting.

He's been doing that a lot, lately.

Both assassins look sheepish. Well, as sheepish as the ever impassive Natasha can appear.

"I think we all have a common purpose, here: Thor."

Tony latches onto that idea with his usual aplomb. "JARVIS said this was his doing. Let's ambush him when he gets here."

"I don't think that's a good..." Steve trails off as it becomes evident everyone, even Bruce and Natasha, likes this plan. Well, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

"What's the plan, Tony?"

"Really? Captain-Stick-Up-His-Ass is going to go along with this? Sweet!"

"The cutout was in my room, too, Tony. That's a mean trick, in my opinion."

"Whatever. Sit down, everybody. We don't have much time, who knows when the big guy will be back."

They settle in around the big table, Tony at the head, to plan.

* * *

"My FRIENDS! I have RETURNED from ASGARD!" Thor appears in the middle of the living room, as loud as ever.

He is _not_ expecting to be surrounded by his friends, all wielding some sort of...instrument.

Steve is the first to step up, a can like the one that wonderful cheesy orange foam comes out of in his hand.

Steve depresses the top of the can, and Thor's chest is covered in glitter. Bruce moves in, a purple covered paintbrush in his hand, and switches with Steve. The scientist is too short to reach Thor's head. Bruce continues spraying the glitter while Steve applies the purple to Thor's hair.

Tony, Natasha, and Clint grab Thor's right arm, forcing him to drop Mjölnir. Disarmed and unwilling to hurt his friends, Thor is defenseless against their ministrations.

Fixated on nail polish, Clint goes for Thor's hands, armed with the most garish shade of pink he could find (not the Shellac because that's _not _fair to the poor manicurist).

Tony and Natasha balance against each other, reaching for Thor's face on tiptoe with brushes and pencils in their hands.

After a few minutes, the team stands back, inspecting their handiwork. Thor stands, unmoving.

"Shit. You guys, I think we _broke _Thor," Clint points out the demigod's unmoving state.

Steve shakes Thor's shoulder and he blinks. "It is OVER?"

"Yes, Thor. We're done. Want to see?" Steve offers.

Tony pulls a mirror from nowhere (narcissist, remember?) and hands it to Steve, who gives it to Thor.

The demigod looks horrified.

* * *

Meanwhile, on Asgard, Heimdall strides up the steps to the palace, clutching his side.

"My king, it appears that Thor's Midgardian friends enjoy playing the same games as Loki used to."

Odin gestures, and a scrying bowl appears. He watches for a minute, and then the king lets out an undignified snort. The gatekeeper and the Allfather lean on each other for support as they wipe tears of mirth from their eyes.


	11. Outtake: Wal-Mart

**It should be said that I have no earthly idea how many Wal-Marts are in NYC. Or how close they are to Stark Tower. But I do think that a Norse god in full battle armor walking around Wal-Mart at three in the morning would not garner much attention.**

**My beta, dysprositos, is a fantastic person. Thank you.**

* * *

"Master Thor, if you would open the second drawer of that table, please. Your cell phone is in there."

Thor looks confused, but he opens it anyway, and pulls out the small black device he remembers. He (somehow) remembers how to turn it on, so he pushes the appropriate button and watches the screen light up. _Ooooh, shiny_.

"What now, voice?" Thor asks, eyeing the ceiling curiously.

Because he's looking up, he jumps slightly when the voice answers him from the device in his hand. It's a very dignified jump.

"I will direct you to this...emporium. Can you find the exit without assistance, Master Thor?"

Instead of answering the voice (because who _dares_ insult the intelligence of Thor, Prince of Asgard?), he merely turns and strides out the door.

He is hopelessly lost within the span of two minutes.

Somewhere deep within the building, JARVIS sighs.

* * *

Once Thor (finally) got out of the Tower, finding the nearest 'Wal-Mart' was surprisingly simple.

Mjölnir swinging from his belt, he strides toward the door, hand outstretched to turn the knob.

There is no knob, and Thor stands there, baffled. Suddenly, the doors open with a 'whoosh'. Thor turns his head from side to side, looking for the source of this sorcery. Is Loki about?

A woman pushes past Thor rudely, walking through the doors without giving a second glance at them. Thor deduces that doors opening by themselves must be commonplace here on Midgard.

When he works up the courage to enter, he is greeted by an elderly man. "Welcome to Wal-Mart, son. Or are you a woman? These glasses need some work..."

Thor ignores the mortal, walking further into the emporium. The last time he was in one of these, Jane did not let him explore.

He has no chaperone now, and intends to enjoy himself fully.

First he goes over into the food market. He sees boxes of preserved food, packaged with bright colors. The Pop-Tarts display mesmerizes him for about five minutes.

There are signs indicating electronics, and Thor follows them. They have game consoles set up, and Thor tries one. He pushes on it a little too hard, however, and it fizzles out. He slinks guiltily away.

The transportation section is next. Thor attempts to ride one of their two wheeled contraptions, but it is so much harder to balance on than a horse. Thor has seen no signs for those, or he would go visit them and give them sugar.

Thor hears raised voices coming from where he left the broken game part, so he pulls out his phone again. Best to finish his business quickly.

"Voice, where can I find the items that feature images of myself and the rest of the Avengers?"

JARVIS pulls up the blueprints and highlights a route to the back right-hand-corner. Thor walks there. When he arrives at his destination, he shoves the phone back away, almost guiltily.

These items are very nice. Thor makes a note to bring the others back here sometime, as he is sure they will enjoy seeing these lovely representations of themselves.

However, he is after one specific item in particular. There are several different poses of his brother to choose from.

Thor deliberates carefully before selecting the stance where his brother holds his scepter in a threatening manner.

He has observed how his friends play these tricks on each other, and Thor was feeling left out.

He suspected the Captain felt hurt, too, as he was also excluded. So, Thor decided he should play a trick on the Captain, then they would both feel better!

Thor picks up his selection, and walks for the doors. On his way, he notices all of the other people going through some sort of processing station.

Since he is not very familiar with the etiquette in this place, Thor selects a man and follows him to the processing station.

It is a wait, and Thor does not like to wait. He is just beginning to get impatient when he spies some reading material on a shelf.

He picks up one of the tomes, its cover proclaiming something about a woman's new baby.

Thor is happily absorbed in his reading, having finished the story about the new child (_lovely to have a new birth, I'll have to send my congratulations_) and moved on to one about a woman betraying her partner's trust by copulating with another man. Thor is very involved, and sad, when he is poked viciously by the woman in line behind him.

Mjölnir is halfway out of his belt before he realizes that she is no threat, and it is his turn to be processed. The woman in the blue shirt behind the counter reaches for Thor's image of his brother and his tome. Confused, he hands them over.

She runs them under some type of scanner, setting them to the side.

"That will be $18.59, sir. Cash or credit card?"

Thor does not know what she's talking about. He says as much, and she looks exasperated.

"You have to pay for these. You know, with money?"

This rings some bells, vaguely, and Thor reaches down, coming up with a handful of gold coins. The woman looks at him funny and tells him that those aren't acceptable. Thor has to think for a minute before he remembers Tony giving him something to use to purchase things. He pulls the thin plastic rectangle out and offers it to the woman. She shakes her head and sternly points at a box with brightly colored numbers on it.

Seeing that he has no idea what to do, she snatches the rectangle away and runs it through the side of the box.

It looks fun, and Thor reclaims his rectangle to try it out himself.

He is on his third swipe when his fun is halted by the woman, who shoves the image of his brother and his reading material at him.

He takes it, and follows a crowd of people to the exit.

Once outside, Thor pulls his phone back out.

"Voice, return me to the Tower at once."

* * *

**Reviews make Thor happy.**


	12. 11: Arrival

**Thank you to my beta, dysprositos, for being wonderful and so helpful!**

**WARNING: language.**

* * *

Odin and Heimdall were just beginning to staunch the flow of laughter-caused tears when the double doors to the throne room flew open with a bang.

Loki strolled in, took one look at the image still hovering before the Allfather, and sniffed, haughtily sticking his pointy nose up in the air. "I could do _so_ much better."

This set the two older men off again, and Loki waited impatiently until the king had calmed enough to speak.

"My son, you have come a long way in your probation. I think a sojourn to Midgard might be just the thing to aid in your rehabilitation."

"You want me to go spend time with that great oaf and his pathetic friends?" Why was Loki forever being forced onto Thor's friends? Would it be so hard for him to make some of his own, without divine interference?

"Pack your things, my son, and return. You are going to MIDGARD."

Loki sullenly turned on his heel and left the room.

He returned half an hour later to find his mother and the king waiting for him. Heimdall had departed, to return to his post watching over the Bifrost. The construction workers needed near-constant supervision, apparently.

Frigga hugged Loki close, and he allowed her. Odin merely pointed a large finger at him and said, "BEHAVE." Then the finger was replaced with Gungnir, and Loki felt himself pulled in several directions, his molecular structure breaking down for his transport to Midgard.

* * *

Tony has just pulled out his camera to take pictures of Thor (Thorina now, perhaps?) when a flash of light from the corner of the room blinds him.

He blinks, and notices the others have been similarly affected. When the goddamn spots are cleared from his vision, he glares at the offending corner.

An alarm klaxon blares. "Intruder in the Tower!" JARVIS informs them.

"Yeah, we can _see _that. Shut the fucking alarm off, will you?"

Loki stands in the corner, blinking owlishly at the assembled company.

Natasha and Clint have weapons drawn and aimed at him, Steve has assumed a boxing stance, and Bruce is doing some deep breathing. Tony looks around frantically for something to use as a weapon. Only Thor seems unconcerned.

Thor immediately strides over to Loki and tries to embrace him. Loki ducks under one of the meaty arms. "You are _covered_ in sparkles, Thor. Keep away!"

"But BROTHER, I wish to EMBRACE you! I have MISSED you!"

"No, Thor."

Surprisingly, Thor obeys, pouting.

Natasha is the first to recover. "What is he doing here, Thor? I thought he was in Asgardian prison or something."

Loki raises a hand to silence his brother. "I _was_ in prison for about the equivalent of one of your Midgardian days. I am on probation now, and the Allfather thought it would be beneficial to send me to Midgard for part of my rehabilitation. I am quite harmless, I assure you."

Thor interjects himself into the conversation, "The Allfather has taken control of Loki's magic. He cannot use it until he has proven himself to be worthy of it."

"And that makes it OKAY for him to come here?" Tony screeches.

"Calm yourself, Man of Iron. Unless you wish to be defenestrated again...that could very easily be arranged." Loki just can't keep his big fat mouth shut.

Tony ducks behind Steve, who takes a threatening step forward. "We need to let Director Fury know, and then we need rules. No, rules first. And rule number one: NO threatening anybody. I mean that, Loki."

"JARVIS, call up the Cyclops and patch him through to that screen. But give him a warning first, huh? I've fulfilled my nuclear devastation prevention quota for the year."

"Yes, Mr. Stark."

Loki jumps at the sudden sound of the disembodied voice. Thor is delighted to know something his brother doesn't, and proceeds to explain what the voice is.

His explanation is not very intelligible, however, and Loki turns to Tony with a questioning look on his face.

"JARVIS is an Artificial Intelligence system, Reindeer Games. He runs the Tower."

"Huh." Loki does not seem very impressed and Tony's preparing to work himself up into a tirade when Fury's face appears on the screen Tony designated.

"What the hell is going on, Rogers?"

"Well, Director Fury, it would appear that Odin sent Loki to Earth as part of his probation. Thor says that he has no magic and is not a threat."

"Well, damn. You keep him in the Tower with you, Avengers. No running amuck. The city is still being fixed from the last time he 'visited'. Romanoff, Barton: Check in daily."

The screen goes blank, and the occupants of the room look at each other, at a loss for words. Yes, even Tony.

After a minute of uncomfortable silence, Clint lowers his bow and speaks, "I don't like this, but I guess we'll have to make the best of it. Just keep him the fuck away from me."

Bruce concurs, "Same here."

The two dissenters leave the room together. Natasha throws up her hands and follows them, leaving Steve, Tony, and the bedazzled Thor alone with the trickster.

"Well, big guy, there should be a room next to yours that nobody's using. Why don't you take your brother in there and keep an eye on him, huh? Somebody will come get you at lunchtime."

"What about this?" Thor indicates his body.

Surprisingly, it is Steve who says, "Uh uh, Thor. You're keeping that on all day. It's not nice to play mean tricks like that on people."

Shrugging, Tony raises his camera to eye-level and takes a few pictures.

Thor makes a face at him, but grabs Loki's bag and arm, carrying the former and dragging the trickster by the latter.

They leave the room, and Tony wipes a hand over his face, tired. "It's too damn early for this."

Steve just looks askance at him. _Right, the Cap's a morning person. Hey, didn't I hear him scream earlier?_

Tony wanders off to go find the answer to this question. Steve is left standing in the middle of the room, finally alone. He raises his hands skyward, imploring.

"Can I help you, Captain Rogers?"

"Uh, no. Thank you, though, JARVIS."

Steve needs to hit something. Desperately.

* * *

In his workshop, Tony commands JARVIS to give him the footage from Steve's bedroom when he woke up that morning.

JARVIS complies, and Tony is soon wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. The good Captain is just too funny.

"Sir, I am detecting a lapse in my memory from this morning, shortly before you woke up."

"Don't just say that, do something about it! Do I have to do everything around here...?"

"Sir, I cannot. The video footage for your bedroom and hall is missing 1.37 minutes of footage."

"Is this an internal glitch or something external?"

"External, sir. All of my systems are fully operative."

"Bruce." It's a statement, not a question.

"He carried the Loki cutout from Captain Rogers's room, and then I lose sight of him until he is back in his room. The cutout is nowhere to be seen."

"Fuck. That proves it, then."

"What are you going to do, sir?"

"Why, get back at him, of course!"

* * *

Tony's plotting his evil plan of evilness when Pepper calls.

"Tony, _why_ do I have Wal-Mart on the other line wanting reimbursement for damages they say were caused by someone matching Thor's description who used one of _your_ credit cards?"

"That's where the big guy got it, then. Huh."

"What?"

"Never mind. Just pay them whatever and I'll deal with him. Sorry, Pep."

"You should be." _Click_.

"THOR!"

* * *

Five floors up, everybody cringes. They had been sitting in the dining room, about to eat lunch. Everybody abruptly abandons Thor, even his brother.

He is confused, but he too wants to hide when he sees Tony Stark's murderous face as the billionaire exits the elevator.

Everybody else is peeking around the corner, protected by Steve's shield. Loki has apparently put his disdain for the Avengers aside long enough to watch what is sure to be an interesting exchange.

Tony storms over to Thor. "You BROKE something in Wal-Mart and didn't tell anyone?"

"Um, yes?" Thor looks sheepish, at least.

"ARGH! That might be how things work up on Asgard, buddy, but we have these things called manners down here on Earth. Midgard. What-the-fuck-ever."

"I am sorry, Tony." It's the softest Thor's decibel level has ever been.

"Damn straight you are. Now bring Mjölnir to my workshop. I'm confiscating it unless there's a mission."

Thor's pout could melt a heart of stone, but Tony's not budging.

They enter the elevator together, Tony still glaring daggers at the demigod.

_Finally, somebody else is in charge. I needed a vacation_, Steve thinks.

He'll be regretting that a few hours later when an explosion rocks the Tower. Mjölnir doesn't like being experimented on.

* * *

**Tell me what you think, please?**


	13. 12: Aftermath

**I forgot to do this last chapter, and I am therefore a terrible person. Wanderingidealism has done it again, created a fabulous piece of art to accompany RR. Check it out on deviantart at werewolveskickass. Please.**

**My beta, dysprositos, is more wonderful and fabulous than I can verbalize. Thank you.**

**WARNING: language.**

* * *

The team plus Loki was assembled outside the Tower, watching as smoke billowed from the windows of Tony's lab, so far up that a normal amount of smoke would be nearly invisible from the ground. But this is Tony Fucking Stark that we are talking about, and he doesn't do anything halfway. Therefore, the excessive amount of smoke was clearly visible from the pavement.

The man in question was coughing heavily, leaning on Clint, who looked quite unhappy to be supporting the billionaire. He _still_ wasn't over the nail incident.

Thor was still sparkly, and hovering over his brother, protecting him from the inquisitive stares of passersby. Loki did _not_ need publicity. It did not occur to him that this might not be the best position to hide Loki, as passersby were rubbernecking both at the smoke and at the God of Thunder, who resembled a Twilight wannabe with his glitter. Loki just sulked, content to snicker at the mortals' expressions as they took his brother in.

Natasha and Bruce stood side-by-side, arms crossed over their chests in identical exasperation, and stared at Tony. He seemed oblivious to their ire. This only made them more incensed.

Steve was acting as liaison to the firefighters and police officers who had responded to JARVIS's 911 call. They had put out the fire soon after arrival, but the smoke was still thick. The police officers were performing crowd control, but things were starting to get out of hand, so they were trying to hint to Steve that the Avengers should get out of sight. Dealing with rabid fangirls was _not_ in their job description.

Slow to catch onto their implications, Steve was just beginning to grasp what they wanted when a projectile flew through the air and hit Bruce, whose eyes flashed green for a split second.

Natasha and Clint _hated_ this exposure. They would never be able to go undercover again, not after having their pictures plastered on every major social networking site (Clint had checked).

After Bruce was hit, Steve spun on his heel, heading back to his team. "Okay, everybody inside. Stay away from the lab, but get off the street."

Clint and Natasha had never been happier to follow an order.

Bruce beckoned for Clint to bring Tony and follow him, presumably to medical, and Natasha followed the little procession, undoubtedly to chastise Tony once she was sure he didn't have a concussion. Thor and Loki brought up the rear, though both looked comfortable, in their element. Steve guessed they had screaming crowds on Asgard.

Steve himself watched until the team had filed inside. Then, he turned to go back and "help;" however, he found himself unceremoniously grabbed by two burly policemen and thrust inside the door, held open by a policewoman. When the door shut behind him, the two men took up defensive positions outside.

Well, Steve could take a hint (an overt one, that is), so he headed to the medical bay to check on Tony. The billionaire was going to lose a limb one of these days when he blew up the wrong thing. Despite the TV show Steve had been watching (and found quite interesting), he did not think that the technology existed to turn Tony into the Six Million Dollar Man, although Tony could definitely afford it.

* * *

Tony was giving Bruce funny looks, but he allowed Bruce to swab his superficial cuts with alcohol and sew up the two serious ones without much of a fuss (he wouldn't be Tony Stark without at least a minor tantrum). When he offered Tony painkillers, the billionaire adamantly refused.

Clint was still in the room, and Steve had wandered in halfway through Bruce's examination. Bruce silently asked them for assistance, and the two men, each stronger than Tony and Bruce combined, pinned Tony down.

"Tony, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Which is it?" Bruce offered, reasonably.

Tony opened his mouth, looking like a little bird, and rolled his eyes. Bruce dropped the two pills in and offered the billionaire a straw. Tony took two deep pulls and swallowed.

He shook Clint and Steve off his arms and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing unsteadily. Steve grabbed him.

"Can you take him to his bedroom, Steve? Those pills should make him drowsy, and I don't know when he last slept more than three hours."

The supersoldier obediently hauled him off, and Bruce was left with the two assassins. Natasha had been hovering up against the wall, waiting for her opportunity to unleash her anger at the billionaire. Denied of this release, she needed to hit something. Or somebody. Preferably Tony, but she knew Bruce wouldn't take that too kindly. So, she snatched Clint's arm and hauled him to the stairs, headed to the gym.

Bruce tidied up the room, thinking back over what had happened. With a start, he realized that Tony had been glaring at him, which must mean that Tony knew that he had planted the cutout and reprogrammed JARVIS. It was a sloppy job anyway, so Bruce wasn't too surprised, but he was a little worried.

* * *

Tony stretches, rolling over lazily. JARVIS gives him the weather report and time, as was their routine when Tony wakes up.

The time that JARVIS says makes Tony start slightly before he remembers the explosion and subsequent fire. And the painkillers.

Bruce has it doubly in for him, now.

Tony reaches up to scratch his face in contemplation, his eyes closed in thought. The result is not what he had been expecting, as his hand is full of shaving cream. The foam is all over his face, and he is _not_ happy.

"Sir, if you would direct your attention to your mirror."

Sure enough, on the mirror across from Tony's bed, the word "LOKI'D" is spelled out in what looks like the rest of the shaving cream.

Tony rolls his eyes, tells JARVIS to get a cleaning bot in to clean that up, and heads into the bathroom to clean his face off.

Properly presentable in a pair of comfortable jeans and an old AC/DC T-shirt with bare feet, Tony leaves to go confront the trickster.

He finds Loki in the living room, curled up on a couch with one foot tucked under him, staring intently at the screen of a tablet. The trickster doesn't look up at his approach, and it takes Tony a minute to see the cause, earbuds.

"Loki. Dude. Seriously? I mean, your rep is awesome, but you come out with the most _juvenile _prank in the history of the universe? I had plans, man. Grandiose ones."

Loki cocks an elegant eyebrow at him, tugging the wires so that he could hear more easily. "I felt I should use a Midgardian prank. Fitting in and all that. Not to mention that I have limited resources at my disposal. So I searched the Internet and found this wonderful idea. I borrowed Thor's shaving cream, it's not like he will ever use it anyway."

Tony hasn't thought about that. "Huh." And how had _Loki_ gotten computer access anyway? Oh, he and Steve are going to have _words_.

"You, however, have unlimited resources. I feel that we would make a good team, Stark, don't you?"

"What? Oh, yeah. We can work together. Sounds good. I want to get Bruce, and get him _good_."

"Well, I want to 'get', as you say, Thor. I can do so much better than giving him a feminine appearance."

"What-the-fuck-ever. My Tower, my shit, we do Bruce first."

"That is agreeable." Loki waves a hand languidly, his eyes straying back to his tablet.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, your JARVIS was kind enough to set up a video so that I can watch Thor. He believes I am still in the room you assigned me and is attempting to speak to me through the door. However, I snuck out within five minutes of his leaving me alone, and his pathetic, pointless rambling is quite amusing."

"Embarrassing Thor seems like fun. Scoot over." Tony drops onto the couch next to Loki and tugs the earbuds out of the tablet's side.

"—was such a fun adventure, brother. And the time we slew the Bilgesnipe together..."

"Meaning he slew and I watched," Loki commented.

"—was a glorious hunt, brother. We always have had such good times together."

"You know, Loki, I don't think I've ever heard Thor be this quiet before."

"He knows that I dislike loud noises, and he believes me to be angry with him and ignoring him. Therefore, he is attempting to do things that will please me. I am expecting him to attempt to feed me soon."

"We should go walk down the hall together, just to see his face."

They are finalizing their plans on that, deciding to see Thor and immediately move into Bruce-planning, when Steve walks into the room, toweling off his hair.

He sees them sitting together on the couch, heads bent and engaged in quiet conversation, and he turns, slipping out silently. Those two are surely up to no good, and Steve doesn't wish to be a target, if he can avoid it. He hopes they have fun, though. Loki seems like he's not such a bad sort, plans for world domination aside, and maybe with a few friends and some fun he would lighten up. Perhaps he'd even decide that taking over the world is not such a good idea.

* * *

Thor is happily recounting their experiences on Álfheimr (_when he got smashed and trashed the tavern frequented by the royal family_) when Tony and Loki stroll down the hall, arm-in-arm.

Loki wiggles his fingers at Thor but does not break stride or pause in his conversation with Tony. (It's mostly gibberish, but Thor doesn't need to know that.)

Thor leaps to his feet and takes three great strides down the hall, snatching Loki up in an embrace despite the trickster's attempt to use Tony as a human shield. "BROTHER! I THOUGHT you were in THERE!"

Loki hits Thor on the shoulder, "Put me down, you great oaf!"

Tony just giggles, like a little girl, glad he has avoided the glitter treatment.

Loki eventually wriggles free, snatching Tony's hand and running down the hall, Tony laughing but keeping pace.

Feeling like a child again is not so bad, and Loki certainly looks younger, as though the burden on his shoulders is slipping.

Once he is sure they have escaped Thor, Loki stops, brushing off his clothing. Most of the sparkles come off, but some remain, especially in his hair. Tony does not point this out to him, however.

"Now, my friend, shall we decide what we are going to do to...Bruce?" Loki wants to call him 'the beast', but doubts this would go over well with the billionaire.

* * *

That evening, a stoic Natasha and sullen Clint help Thor clean himself off. He decides to keep the purple in his hair, but is glad to be rid of the rest of the stuff. Perhaps now Loki will not mind embracing him!


	14. 13: Plotting

**My beta, dysprositos, is seriously one of the most awesome people I know. Thank you!**

**tumblr makes me do strange things. So, thank you to tumblr, who stole a certain line from a certain other fandom. All credit goes to the original fandom; I'm merely borrowing this line.**

**WARNING: language.**

* * *

Tony and Loki tumble onto the couch in Tony's lab, still giggling madly.

Tony recovers enough to conceal their location, "JARVIS, lock the door and lower the privacy blinds. If Thor asks where we are, tell him that you don't know. The meathead won't know the difference."

Calling Thor a meathead sends Loki into a new fit of hysterics, which he does not recover from for another five minutes.

As he convulses, Tony is running around the lab, gathering materials. He seats himself back down next to Loki, a holographic protection of a blank list hovering in front of him, anchored in a small tablet.

"Okay, Reindeer Games, let's get started."

Loki sobers, finally, and looks at Tony. "I do not know exactly what is appropriate, nor what is doable here in this primitive realm. Perhaps you should start, and I will make suggestions based on what you think proper."

This works for Tony. He begins to dictate to JARVIS, who displays the ideas on the holographic list.

"We could Hulk-size all his clothes…" (Tony has an odd fixation with Bruce's clothes that he refuses to admit to himself.)

He pauses, lost in thought. "Oh, I know! We can dye his hair green. No, wait, I've already done that. Fuck. That would be so funny."

"I begin to get the idea. However, without magic, I fear our options are very limited."

"Good. What do you think, Reindeer Games?"

"Why do you persist in calling me this ridiculous nickname? I am neither particularly playful, nor am I a deer."

"It's the horns, princess. That helmet is quite…something."

"I grow tired of lesser beings insulting my helmet. It is perfectly serviceable, and very aesthetically pleasing, if I do say so myself."

"Whatever floats your boat, princess."

"Aren't we deviating from the task at hand? So far, we have one idea, and it is not particularly amusing, if I might be blunt."

Tony's a little offended. "Well, what the fuck would _you_ call funny anyway, Reindeer Games?"

"My crowning achievement was when I cut off all of the Lady Sif's lustrous locks. Oh, for the good old days…"

"You cut her locks? What the fuck is that, all of her doors? Does she own a fucking mansion or something?"

"No, you foolish mortal. Her _hair_."

"Ohhhh." Tony looks a little sheepish, but he bounces back quickly. "Well, that won't work on Brucie-boy, his hair always grows back after a transformation."

"I was not suggesting it. I was retelling the tale of my greatest mischief."

"Who cares? Let's focus here."

"Whatever, Stark. We are dealing with the human form of the so-called 'Hulk', are we not?"

"Reindeer Games, Bruce is a human who turns green, _not_ a green being who turns human."

"Distinctions, distinctions," Loki says, waving an airy hand.

Tony glares.

"Do you want my help or not, Stark? I refuse to censor myself just so I do not offend your foolish mortal sensibilities."

Tony doesn't like motherfucking censorship, and he dislikes the idea of him as a motherfucking censor even more. "Fine, fine. What do you suggest?"

"He has rituals and preventatives to help keep the beast at bay, does he not? Perhaps we should remove those from his possession. His reaction would be most interesting…"

"Yes, Bruce does. But that won't work. We can't do anything that drastic without getting the Cyclops involved, and that's never pretty. Besides, what if he Hulks-out when there's nobody around to calm him down? He could hurt somebody."

Loki looks pissed that his plan has been discovered. Tony doesn't notice, too involved in a memory. "Oh, that was a good day. You _have_ to see this, Reindeer Games."

"See what, Stark?"

"JARVIS, play video clip eight-oh-seven."

The screen in front of the two plotters goes opaque for a second, then shows a video. It's Bruce, Hulked-out, and Steve standing in front of him, pleading. Then, Steve stops trying to reason with the being, and demonstrates how to smash gently. Tony's laughing hard, leaning on Loki for support. Loki does not look happy.

The video ends, and Tony queues it up again. Five more times, to be exact. Loki looks downright livid, by this point.

The sixth replay is almost finished, when the vent cover in the ceiling pops out, narrowly missing Loki's head.

It clatters to the ground. Tony sobers abruptly.

"What the fuck?"

There is no verbal response, just an eerie silence.

Tony and Loki share a glance, then, apparently deciding it was nothing, turn their attention away from the ceiling.

"JARVIS, remind me to fix that later, yeah?"

JARVIS does not answer. Well, that's more than a little disturbing.

Before they can react, Silly String sprays from the ceiling. Tony just sighs, attempting to avoid as much of the polymer as possible. Loki, however, flips the fuck out, frantically beating at his clothes.

The first noise he makes is a high whine, followed by a strange montage of sound. "Eeep! Blech! Argh! What? Ugh!"

As amusing as this is, Tony takes pity on the trickster. "Jesus, calm down, Reindeer Games. It's annoying, but harmless."

Loki shoots Tony a glare, but stops hopping around like he's got ants in his pants.

The deluge ends, only to be replaced with another color.

Tony tries to surreptitiously sneak across the room for a stool, but their mystery visitor stops him by completely targeting him with the spray. It really could only be one of three people, as Steve and Thor are too big for the vents. The uncannily accurate aim seems to rule out Bruce, but who knows what talents he possesses? The man is the definition of 'closed off'.

When the second can runs out, they hear a distinct, "Caw caw, motherfuckers," emanating from the vent.

"Clint," Tony confirms.

Loki just looks pissed, covered in green and yellow ribbons of the spray.

Cackling echoes back down the vent as Clint makes his getaway.

"JARVIS, are you back online? What the fuck happened there, man? I thought we were cool?"

"I was never offline, Mr. Stark. I apologize, but Agent Barton threatened to do unthinkable things to my motherboard if I gave away his position. We are indeed 'cool', as you say."

"What-the-fuck-ever. I'm going to turn you into a toaster, the next chance I get. Initiate emergency procedure five-eleven." He turns to Loki. "You'll like this. Had it installed last week, after he tried to sneak in here and listen in on my conversations."

Clint's shriek breaks the stillness that has settled after Tony's comment.

"Camera, please, JARVIS?"

Clint is shown on their screen, covered in pink slime.

Tony smirks. "That ought to discourage him sneaking through my vents anymore. I had some of the pigment binding compound left over from when I did Bruce, and parts of Clint ought to be a nice hot pink for a while. Unless Bruce takes pity on him…"

"To prevent this from happening, we should continue our planning, should we not?"

"Yeah, I guess. I'm hungry, though. Let's eat first and plan later. We weren't getting anywhere, anyway."

"Can I try some of this mortal food, 'shawarma'? Thor has been quite loquacious on that particular delicacy. I would like to try some, if only so that I can make him shut up about it."

"Sure, sounds good!"

Tony grabs a rag and swipes at his clothing, removing most of the Silly String. He tosses the rag at Loki, who does the same. However, the rag does little for the glitter still clinging to Loki. Again, Tony decides not to tell him about it. A little humility never hurt anyone, after all.

"Hop in," Tony gestures to his black convertible, parked off the side of his lab. Loki obligingly gets in the passenger side.

"Watch this. Bruce Wayne doesn't have anything on Tony Stark."

Loki, of course, does not get the reference.

A ramp opens up, and Tony drives up it, from _his_ lab under the Tower's underground parking complex, emerging on a nondescript side street.

"JARVIS, where's shawarma?"

"My records indicate that you enjoy the restaurant on Front Street, sir. Would you like directions?"

"Duh."

JARVIS gives them directions, and they head out.

* * *

Back at the Tower, Steve is working out with the heavy bag when a non-sparkly Thor walks into the gym. Steve's secretly a little upset that the demigod wasn't punished longer, but he supposes that would be unfair.

"STEVE, have you seen MY BROTHER? I wish to SPEAK with HIM."

"No, wasn't he in his room?"

"I THOUGHT he WAS, but he ran down the HALL with Tony, and would not let me EMBRACE him. The VOICE does not KNOW where they have GONE. Natasha and Clint saw fit to REMOVE my sparkles, but it appears that CLINT has some sort of AFFLICTION. He is COVERED in PINK PATCHES!"

Steve just sighs. "No, Thor, I don't know where Tony and Loki have gone. And what's wrong with Clint?"

"Clint has acquired a RASH, Steve."

"I'd better go check on him, then. Oh, JARVIS, do you know where Loki is?"

"Master Loki has gone to eat shawarma with Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers."

"LOKI did NOT INVITE me?" Thor's doing a good impression of a puppy.

"No, Master Thor, he did not."

"Thor, isn't it good that Loki is making some friends? I mean, wasn't that the whole point of your father sending him to Earth?" Steve needs to go, but leaving the demigod looking so distraught is strangely challenging.

"I suppose."

Steve manages to get away, and finds Natasha and Clint in the living room, watching the news. Clint _does_ have patchy bright pink sections of skin, but it looks more like dye than illness to Steve.

Just to be sure, "Natasha, what happened to Clint?"

"Oh, he tried to sneak through the vents into Tony's lab. Again. Tony apparently booby-trapped them."

"Hey! I did get inside!"

"Wonderful, Clint. Do you want an award?" Steve felt Natasha's sarcasm was a little uncalled for.

"Well, maybe Bruce can help you."

"Been there, done that. He laughed and slammed the door in my face."

"Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark and Master Loki have returned."

"Clint, I'm sorry. I'll talk to Bruce. JARVIS, can you tell them that they need to come up here?"

"Master Stark has replied in the affirmative, Captain Rogers."

"Good. Can you tell Thor to come up here, too?"

"Of course, Captain Rogers."

* * *

Thor was dejectedly inspecting the gym equipment, still very upset that his brother did not invite him out to eat.

"Master Thor, Captain Rogers has requested your presence in the living room."

"I am on my way, voice... Where is it again?"

"Take the elevator. I will do the rest."

"Your aid is most appreciated, voice!"

* * *

Thor arrives in the living room just after Tony and Loki, who have taken the other elevator.

"BROTHER, let me EMBRACE you!"

Loki moves farther from Thor. He probably just wants to make sure there is enough room so that Thor can pick him up and swing him around.

Thor does, and and he is overjoyed to note Loki's squirms of happiness in Thor's embrace.

"Put me down, you cretin!"

Thor must have squeezed him too hard.

"Okay, we're all here. Oh, not Bruce. That's okay, I'll fill him in later. Anyway, I understand that playing pranks is fun, but let's make sure we keep them all nice."

Tony and Loki shared a long look. "Nice" wasn't exactly the word they'd use to describe what they had planned for Bruce over lunch. But they supposed that could be debatable.


	15. 14: Performance Issues

**My beta, dysprositos, is completely fantastic. Please don't die of Bruce-induced shock. Thank you!**

**WARNINGS: language and slight nudity.**

* * *

Completely disregarding Steve's command (who _actually_ listens to him anyway?), Tony and Loki started to work immediately.

Tony lured Bruce out of his room with promises of science and food, no Loki in sight, and Bruce, (correctly) mistrusting Tony's intentions, agreed only on the condition that Natasha and Steve come with them.

So, that was how Tony Stark found himself in a shitty hole-in-the-wall diner, picking at a piece of pie and drinking his sixth cup of coffee that day with Captain Fucking America, the goddamn Hulk, and the Black Widow.

Bruce sat close to Steve on their side of the booth, with his paranoia senses on high alert. Natasha sat as far away from Tony as she could on their side. She was practically fucking hugging the wall, which was of dubious cleanliness.

Their conversation was stilted and awkward, mostly composed of Steve asking questions, always up in their fucking business, and the others answering with one word answers or grunts.

Steve eventually gave up, and focused on his third piece of apple pie.

_About fucking time_, Tony thought.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at Stark Tower, Loki was heading to Bruce's room, armed with a sack of rocks, scissors, and needle and thread.

This was one of his contributions to the plan, and he was very proud of it.

He was waylaid on his way into the beast's room by his ignorant brother, who scarcely gave the strange items in Loki's hands a second glance in favor of attempting to embrace Loki.

Loki managed to dodge Thor, pointing the scissors at him to keep the demigod at bay.

"BROTHER! I wish to EMBRACE YOU!"

"Brother, I do NOT wish to embrace you," Loki mocked.

Thor, never the smartest little Asgardian, was oblivious to Loki's sarcasm. "Why will you not embrace me?"

"I am busy, Thor. Go away."

Thor's pout could sway even the most hard-hearted men, but Loki was immune. "Go _away_, Thor."

Thor left, walking dejectedly down the hall, and Loki went into the beast's room.

He removed all of the coverings from Bruce's bed, baring the mattress, and ripped a hole down the middle with the scissors.

Reaching in, he rearranged the stuffing, filling the mattress with rocks, and carefully arranging the complicated mess of mattress innards and rocks so that it would not be obvious that the original contents of the mattress had been...augmented.

Once he was satisfied that everything was perfect, he pulled the two outer edges of the mattress back together and grabbed the needle.

The mattress split back open with only one hand to hold it together. He sighed, and tried holding it a different way with one hand. This did not work, either.

After several minutes of more different configurations, and lots of repeated sighing, he considered calling Thor back to help. He rejected that idea almost immediately because Thor could not keep a secret to save his life.

Loki had learned this the hard way, when he confided in Thor what gift he had acquired for his mother's nameday. Thor had blurted it out at dinner, and the surprise was completely ruined for Loki.

So, Thor was out. JARVIS told Loki that the only other inhabitant of the Tower present at that time was Clint, so Loki asked JARVIS to put him through to Clint.

When the call connected, Loki merely had to explain what he was doing before Clint was eagerly agreeing, and soon Loki heard loud footsteps coming down the hall.

Clint burst into the room, and excitedly approached Loki. "How can I help?"

"Just put your hand here, and the other one there."

Loki did _not_ thank people, so once they were done, he waved a hand dismissively in Clint's direction and turned to gather up his supplies.

He missed Clint sticking his tongue out at his back, but JARVIS took a picture for Tony.

* * *

What they hadn't remembered was that Bruce had spent the majority of the last few years on the run in third-world countries with almost no creature comforts. Sleeping on hard, uneven surfaces was the least of his troubles, most of the time.

After a few nights of staying up late in the lab, giggling over the video feed from Bruce's room like a couple of schoolgirls, Tony and Loki were forced to concede defeat.

Bruce showed no signs of discomfort at all, so they decided to move onto Phase 2 of their plan.

Tony snuck into Bruce's room and grabbed his cell phone, bringing it back into the lab and hooking it up to a couple machines.

He pushed a button, and as the opening beats of a ringtone filled the lab, he asked, "What do you think, Reindeer Games?"

Loki could not answer, he was laughing so hard.

* * *

The next day, Bruce had to go into SHIELD to do a consult with some of their lab technicians. He might be a giant green rage monster some of the time, but SHIELD actually wanted his brain the rest of the time.

He was deep in science-talk with the head biochemist, a crowd of attentive interns gathered around, when Tony and Loki, watching from the JARVIS-hacked SHIELD feed, called Bruce's phone.

"_I like big butts and I cannot lie!_" filled the room. Its source was clearly Bruce's pocket.

The SHIELD flunkies looked horrified, but Bruce simply cracked a deranged smile and answered, "Hey, baby."

Tony and Loki were not expecting _that_, and hung up immediately, pissed that yet _another_ prank backfired.

They felt better when Bruce was called into Fury's office and lectured for the better part of an hour about 'endangering a civilian' because they assumed he was dating one. When Fury finally stopped to draw breath, Bruce explained that it was just a joke, and that he had wanted to see what the SHIELD personnel would do.

Fury cracked a smile and admitted to doing the same thing, sometimes. He dismissed Bruce promptly, as an implied apology for taking up his time. Because Fury does _not_ apologize.

Tony was quite interested to learn this about the director, and vowed to swap stories with him sometime.

* * *

Bruce left the SHIELD building and headed for the cafe down the street. He checked his phone history, and saw that the caller id from his last call read 'Natasha'.

He *69-ed it, and the number that displayed on his caller id was _not_ Natasha's.

But he _did _know that number.

He changed that ringtone back to his generic chime, and replaced the phone in his pocket.

Then he ordered a tea and ate a muffin, wondering if that was it, or if he should continue to be watchful. This seemed awfully...tame for Tony.

In the end, he could not decide, and he went back to the Tower, the only clear decision in his mind to stick close to Steve.

* * *

Bruce stuck close to Steve that afternoon and evening, helping the supersoldier with dinner despite the fact that it wasn't Bruce's turn. Tony and Loki noticed this, and Tony made an effort to act as harmless as possible.

He _did_ twirl a fake mustache when Bruce's back was turned, however.

Loki, well, Loki just kept avoiding Bruce. Pranking him from afar was one thing, but he had no desire to repeat his past encounter with the beast, so he stayed well out of striking distance. _Far _away.

They had a calm dinner. It was not quiet because nothing is ever _quiet_ when Thor is around. "PASS the ROLLS, STEVE!" at 125 decibels was a prime example. Oh, and Thor took five rolls. On that pass alone.

Anyway, after dinner, Bruce and Steve hung out in the movie room. At nine, Steve announced that it was time for him to go to bed. Bruce refrained from asking Steve to walk him to his room, but it was a struggle. He did scramble from the couch and follow Steve to the elevator, staying close for as long as possible.

When Bruce arrived at his floor, alone, he sprinted to his room, and slammed the door shut behind him, locking it. Then, he leaned up against it to catch his breath.

Feeling more reassured, Bruce went into the bathroom to take a shower. He was happily lathering up his hair and humming tunelessly under his breath when the hot water cut off abruptly.

This did not bother Bruce much. He'd taken "showers" under garden hoses in Latin America. And those were pretty fucking cold.

He pretended to shiver, and washed the shampoo out of his hair as quickly as he could, putting on a good show for the audience he knew he had.

He wondered what had happened to him in the last few years, that he would not care that at least one person was watching him shower, Big Brother style. He had no good answer.

He cut the shower off and got out, toweling off quickly and pulling on his t-shirt and boxers. He jumped into bed and pulled the covers up high, hoping he had given enough of a show that Tony would be satisfied.

What he didn't know was that his audience had been abruptly yanked from their screens about two minutes into his performance by an irate teammate...

* * *

Natasha had not had the best day, and she wanted nothing more than to take a long, relaxing hot shower (Tony could _afford_ the goddamn hot water).

She had been in the shower for only five minutes when the hot water cut off. She was immediately drenched in freezing water. She did _not_ shriek (no, she really didn't), but she did turn the water off.

Wrapping a towel loosely around her body, she stormed for the door.

"JARVIS, who the _fuck _do I need to kill?"

"Mr. Stark and Master Loki have been attempting to prank Dr. Banner all day, Agent Romanoff. However, I would advise against killing them. Director Fury and Captain Rogers would be most distressed, as would Master Thor."

"_Thanks_, JARVIS. Mute," Natasha growled.

Correctly guessing their location, she rode the elevator down to Tony's lab. The doors whooshed open for her automatically, and she paused for a second to bare her teeth at the ceiling.

Tony and Loki were hunched over a screen in the far corner of the lab, their backs to her.

She stalked over to them, placing one hand on each of their shoulders and _yanking_, spinning them to face her.

Immediately after taking in her wet hair, state of dress, and (most importantly) murderous expression, they started talking over each other, clamoring to apologize and explain.

Natasha slammed their heads together and dusted her hands, inspecting her nails for any damage.

"This had better be fixed by the time I get back to my room, or else..."

They nodded fervently as Natasha left, the doors opening automatically for her once again.

* * *

After their...experience with Natasha, Tony and Loki decided to call it a night. They had a plan to put into action in the morning.

* * *

Two days later, Bruce woke up and did a double-take at the state of his walls. They appeared to be plastered with a giant version of an Avengers swimsuit calendar. Even Fury was featured, and God, was that an image that Bruce wanted to _burn_ out of his brain.

Tony had January, May, October, and December.

February went to Clint, who was posed with his bow.

Thor had March and a bemused expression on his face.

April went to Natasha, whose suit was surprisingly...tasteful.

June was Fury, and _oh no, I just looked at it_ again.

Steve had July, his bathing suit the red, white, and blue of the Stars and Stripes.

August was Bruce, whose face had obviously been Photoshopped onto a model's body. _I don't even _look_ like that_!

September featured Agent Hill, another apparent Photoshop job.

November was a cross Loki, who was clearly glaring at the person behind the camera.

The whole thing was laughable in its garishness, so that's exactly what Bruce did.

He laughed. So hard that he couldn't breathe. He stopped to catch his breath, and then immediately started up again.

He laughed so long and hard that Tony, fearing for Bruce's sanity, sent Steve in to investigate.

Steve took one look at the wall and resolutely fastened his eyes on Bruce, refusing to look anywhere else.

If anything, Steve's appearance and subsequent blush only made Bruce's paroxysms worse.

Steve eventually had to pick Bruce up bodily and carry him from the room, depositing him at the breakfast table, still laughing away.

One well-placed look from Natasha, who could not take any form of cheeriness before her second cup of coffee, shut him up.

"What is the MATTER, BRUCE? What are you SO RED?"

Bruce could not answer Thor's question without laughing, and had to excuse himself lest he face Natasha's wrath.

Loki had to explain Bruce's behavior to the confused demigod. Thor did not understand, but then again, he understood so little of the strange behavior of Midgardians.


	16. Outtake 2: Photography

**My beta, dysprositos, rocks.**

**WARNING: language.**

* * *

After Tony explained the concept of a swimsuit calendar to Loki, using far too many examples, Loki had to consider for a moment.

Then he laughed, "This is a good plan...as long as I do not have to be photographed."

"Oh, no, Reindeer Games, you're gonna model. Or I'll have JARVIS constantly update Thor on your every move so that he can spend more time with you."

Loki blanched. "Fine, I will do this. That does not mean I have to like it."

"What-the-fuck-ever, princess."

* * *

Tony was their first model. He brought several bathing suits down into the lab, and posed for Loki and DUM-E, neither of whom could work a camera very well.

In the end, JARVIS wound up taking the shots because Loki dropped the camera and DUM-E accidentally ran it over.

Despite all of the hassle, Tony thought his pictures turned out pretty fucking well. He was pleased.

Loki just made a face.

* * *

Their new camera arrived after lunch that day. Loki tried to go hide, going so far as to consider using Thor as a shield, but Tony found him and wound up dragging both the aliens down to his lair. Lab, that is.

Tony had assembled a large complement of swimsuits guessing (correctly) that most of his houseguests would not possess bathing suits of their own. Loki's size was found easily enough, but the largest size strained a little around Thor's hips, the elastic stretching out to the extreme.

Loki posed first, giving Tony the angriest, most indignant glare that he could. Tony just laughed. "Smile, princess!"

Loki felt childishly better in his refusal.

He immediately put his clothes back on and went to watch Thor.

Thor did not understand what they were doing, but Loki was spending time with him and this was making Loki happy, and that's what mattered.

It took Tony several tries to get the right angle for Thor, so that all of the demigod was in the picture. Loki laughed at his first attempts that decapitated Thor and excluded parts of his chest.

Finally, Thor was finished, and he was unceremoniously kicked out on his arse by Loki, who told him to "go find the American Captain."

"That's Captain America, pal," Tony corrected.

"I do not _care_," Loki snarled.

"Oooh, touchy."

* * *

Steve came down, looking confused.

Tony grabbed his arm, talking a mile-a-minute, and managed to wrestle Steve out of his shirt and halfway out of his pants before Steve's brain caught up to the action.

Steve pulled his pants back up, protesting loudly. Tony just thrust a few different sizes of red, white, and blue trunks at him and shoved the still-complaining Captain into the changing area.

After a few minutes, Steve came out, dressed in the trunks. "What is going _on_, Tony? Why is Loki giggling over there in the corner?"

"We're just taking some pictures for a highly classified project. And I don't know, Loki's weird?"

"Does Director Fury know about this?"

"Sure, of course. Stand there."

Steve obliged.

"Can you at least smile or something?"

Steve forced a smile. Something felt...off about this situation, but he had no reason to doubt Tony's word. He didn't like feeling objectified, no matter the reason, so he wanted his shirt back.

After a few more minutes, Tony waved a hand at Steve. "Thanks, Capsicle. You can keep those."

Steve grabbed his clothes and left, throwing a worried glance at Loki, who had _still_ not stopped laughing.

* * *

Natasha was a hard sell, but Clint was willing to do anything to get back at Bruce, even if it meant working with Tony...and Loki, who he had still not forgiven.

They went down to the lab together, wearing robes over their suits. They had _insisted_ that they wear their own suits, and Tony bargained "Yes, if Clint'll pose with his bow."

Natasha poked Clint in the ribs, and he agreed.

As Natasha removed her robe, Tony was upset to see a demure, modest swimsuit.

"Really, Romanoff? I would've pegged you for the skimpy, barely-there type."

"Only on assignment, Stark."

She posed easily enough, having done this before. _Boy, __has__ she done this before..._

Clint stepped into position, an arrow nocked and pointing suspiciously in Loki's direction.

He refused to look at the camera, and Tony decided that he could roll with that.

Clint was photogenic, and it only took three pictures to get one that Tony liked.

He knew that he had to thank the assassins. "Thanks, you two. Now go the fuck away."

Natasha threw him a scary look, but Clint pulled her out of the room before she could do any more damage. Tony's ears were _still_ ringing from her attack the last night.

* * *

After they left, Tony told Loki, "SHIELD refuses to take my calls, so we're just going to have to do this the hard way."

He hacked the SHIELD computers, and accessed the private, highly-protected personnel files.

He started at the beginning of Fury's and, within ten minutes, he had a hit. A picture of Fury from his earlier days as an agent. It was old, but it would do. And hot damn, but Tony had a _wealth_ of blackmail material now. Why hadn't he done this earlier?

Agent Hill was harder. After combing through her profile three times, Tony was forced to admit defeat.

He pulled up Photoshop, and set to work, Loki looking on in interest.

The resulting image wasn't perfect (Tony had almost no experience, and none of it was sober), but it was at least recognizable.

"Is it possible to do that for...Bruce as well? It seems a shame to exclude him from his own present."

"I guess so, but that would mean I only get to be in it four times," Tony pouted.

"Oh, grow up, Stark."

Tony obliged, still pouting, and soon the last picture was completed.

Tony assigned Clint to February and Steve to July, and told JARVIS to run a random simulation for the others.

JARVIS finished, and they were able to look over the projection of the calendar.

They nodded in approval. Tony sent it to the printer, and they went upstairs for dinner.

* * *

**I just know that blackmail material exists in Fury's file. Thoughts?**


	17. 15: End

**Thank you to dysprositos, my beta, for being fantastically awesome.**

**WARNINGS: language, and cute. Lots of cute.**

* * *

A few hours later, Bruce had finally managed to calm down enough to eat his (long-cold) breakfast.

The team trickled in and out of his room, gawking at his wall. Thor tried to take the picture of Loki down so that he could preserve the "GLORIOUS IMAGE of his BROTHER," but the two jokesters had apparently superglued the calendar to the wall.

Bruce's laughter got suspiciously hysterical after he heard that little tidbit of news.

After he finished his cold breakfast, Bruce went to evaluate the situation himself.

The damn pictures wouldn't come off the wall. Bruce tried everything he could short of a blowtorch to remove them.

If he hadn't been afraid of Pepper coming after him for damaging her 12% of the Tower, he would have used the blowtorch, but she was one _scary_ lady.

* * *

He tried to live in that room, he really did, but after a week he was forced to admit defeat. The shirtless pictures of his teammates were just creepy.

He moved into another room, one with a much better locking mechanism on the door.

Slowly, his abandoned room became a shrine of sorts to the Avengers. The "calendar" was still on the walls, and every so often the team would slip in a new piece of merchandise they had found.

Iron Man merch was the most prevalent, of course, because this was Tony Fucking Stark, but Loki had gained an avid fan base while doing volunteer work to pay his debt. So, Thor often added items featuring his brother to the room.

Clint liked to buy Black Widow merchandise, especially the action figures. Natasha usually bought Hawkeye t-shirts, but she occasionally bought items featuring the Hulk.

Bruce always got a kick out of seeing those. His contributions to the room were mostly in the form of Thor and Captain America items, because nobody else on the team would buy them.

Steve, well, Steve bought things that featured the whole team, but if you were having a bad day, finding a new piece of your merch in the room was not at all unusual.

They had a whole corner of the room dedicated to Coulson, whose face and story had been used as a PR stunt. None of the Avengers spoke to SHIELD for three months after that, but they were forced to concede that it might not be such a bad thing. At least the public loved him, and Agent Coulson was one of the more popular figures on themed items. Children had imitation tasers and ran around pretending to tase Tony Stark and shoot the bad guys.

Tony only pretended to mind. Coulson was really important to all of them.

Natasha and Clint had quit their jobs with SHIELD, as their covers had been blown sky-high. They worked with the NYPD sometimes, but they were enjoying their first real vacations in well, ever. Their delight was only increased by having a practically limitless supply of funds at their disposal.

Tony had quit griping about all the money they were spending when Bruce pointed out that Tony manufactured most of the Avengers items on the market, and his net worth had nearly doubled as a result.

Now, Tony just complains out of habit about once a week. He wouldn't be _Tony_ otherwise.

* * *

After six months of staying on Earth, Loki went back to Asgard to face the Allfather.

Odin was glad to see him making such a good recovery, and promptly sent him right back to Earth.

After giving him a little of his magic back, that is.

The pranks continued, getting crazier. Loki (with magic!) was a hot commodity, and he received enough bribes to start up his own company or open his own store in the first week alone. And only 18.4% of those were from Tony.

At some point (probably after she rigged the windows to reverse day and night), the boys had decided that they could play tricks on Natasha without fearing too much bodily harm.

Steve had gone to the library and read up on pranks, and he too joined in the fun. Safe fun, though. None of his pranks involved the slightest possibility of danger to his victims.

Thor was the only one who did not participate often, as he could not keep up with the others. He tried, bless his little heart, he did, but he just couldn't.

Loki was having fun, and eventually stopped referring to the humans as 'peasants'. He even allowed Thor to embrace him four times every week.

He held Thor to that, religiously, and the others found it quite amusing, come Friday when he had used up his four hugs, to watch Thor beg for another embrace while a smug Loki denied him.

Clint still got the short end of the stick (and far too many pink-themed pranks), but he was enjoying his second childhood. And if another one of his arrows did something funny, the next one he fired was going to end up in Stark's ass.

Or Loki's. Clint wasn't too choosy. But they had gotten over their issues, for the most part, and they collaborated as much as they targeted each other.

Tony and Bruce? Well, they were...complicated. Bruce gave as good as he got, and he was a valuable ally. However, he enjoyed messing with Tony, so they never worked together for long. He had managed to get a really good handle on the Other Guy, and there was a secret betting pool on when he would inadvertently Hulk-out next.

Bruce (secretly) bet through Clint, who somehow managed to win both times it had happened.

Pepper sat them all down, not too long after Natasha got involved, and threatened terrible, terrible things if she was ever targeted.

Other than the odd stuffed strawberry turning up in her office, she never was.

* * *

One year to the day after Loki had attempted to invade Earth, he appeared at the ribbon-cutting ceremony for all of the people who had died in his attack.

He gave a moving speech, thoroughly apologizing for his mistakes, and was surprised with official Avenger status after he finished. Tony presented him with a plaque, to formalize it. And a huge-ass helmet, to replace his original one.

Loki had never smiled so big before, and he allowed Thor an extra two embraces that week. Nobody dared mention it to his face, however.

This was the final catalyst for Odin to give all of Loki's magic back. He also became the official Asgard-Midgard delegate and he now frequently travels back and forth to work out the terms of an official alliance between both of his adopted homes.

Nobody could cure him of his fondness for scarves with suits, and after the hundred-and-seventy-eighth attempt (JARVIS was counting), they stopped trying.

But not teasing him. However, Loki got the last word when he landed a modeling contract for men's scarves. He was in great demand for all of the high-end retailers.

Tony learned the hard way to not tease Loki about making an appearance on the runway. He'd had donkey ears for a week. Pepper still calls him Midas.

The Avengers are happy, and they only have to save the world two or three times a month now. And with Loki available, most battles are much easier and safer. They have a seven-month streak of no civilian casualties going, and their goal is to never break it, if at all possible.

In between, however, they're just a bunch of overgrown teenagers who like to have "responsible fun" (Pepper's words).

And that's just the way they like to live.

**Fin.**

* * *

**Wow. I'm done.**

**1. THANK YOU to all of my readers/reviewers/favoriters/followers.**

**2. dysprositos. I cannot thank you enough. She's been such a great support throughout all of this, and I'd probably still be freaking out somewhere in the vicinity of chapter 2 without her.**


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